Crashing Down: A Compilation of One Shots
by MilkMamaReturns
Summary: Rating is Now M! Newest Stories: "Then The Rain Fell", "Not the Last Time",,"More Than You Know", & "Guy Hugs" . A collection of one-shot pieces. Different POVs. Romance. Humor. Drama. Parody. Everything you could ask for.
1. Excuses

**Ti****tle**: "Excuses"  
**Author**: ForensicMama ()  
**Pairing**: Angela, Brennan, Booth, Hodgins  
**Spoilers**: Season 4 FINALE spoilers.  
**Rating**: K+/T  
**Chapter: **1-Shot

Basically, I was sick of it.

Many a person has pegged me wrong in the past. People who have thought that I was a drama whore were all wrong. Sure, I like minimal doses. A teaspoon here. A teaspoon there. But when push comes to shove, I'd like to just get through the day, go home and take a long hot bubble bath complete with a novel borrowed from Cam.

Most days I keep it all to myself. I suck it up. I shut up. It's been years since I've uttered a word about that damned UST between Bren and Booth. I mean, the answer seems easy. Jump in the sack. Call it good. Booth isn't one of those guys, though. I can see that. He's like Jack. He's the marrying type. And Bren? She'd walk all over his ass. Take him through the ringers. Leave him heart-broken and love-sick.

Brennan--God, I love her, but she's so overly rational that when a man cheats on her or leaves her, she's all good within a few days. Booth? It'd kill him if Bren broke his heart.

So, I've kept my mouth shut for the most part. I've let a few opinions slip through, God help me, but then all hell broke loose. I couldn't shut my yap any more.

And the straw that broke the camel's back?

It was May 15th. Bren was quietly brooding all morning. She didn't bother to crack a single smile. Poor Wendell--the boy is adorable, right?--screwed up on identifying some bone or something and she snapped at him. It wasn't the first time that morning and it wasn't even lunchtime yet.

I snatched her arm and dragged her to the edge of the platform. "What the hell is the matter with you, sweetie?"

She played coy. Coy pisses me off. "I don't know what you're talking about, Angela."

"Bren. It's me. Angela. I know you and I know that Wendell didn't deserve that back there. Now what's wrong?"

Bren looked around, then I took her cue and we walked off a few feet. She crossed her arms and whispered, "Booth and I slept together."

This could be good. "Really? So how does that justify you biting Wendell's head off?"

"I guess I'm a bit on the edge--"

"The edge? Brennan, you jumped off the edge ten minutes ago. Now, what happened with you and Booth?" I knew it couldn't be good. Although it did explain the smile she wore all day yesterday, this certainly wasn't a post-hot-bathroom-sex kind of demeanor.

She was scientific about the subject. As usual. Big surprise. "Booth and I decided that it's better for our partnership that we don't pursue a romantic relationship."

You've gotta be _shitting _me. My hand had a mind of its own as it whipped out and slapped her coldly across the cheek. Those big blue eyes of hers widened. She gasped. "Angela!"

I tried not to sound as surprised as I actually was by my actions. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but you deserved that."

"How could I have deserved that? What happened between Booth and me is none of your business."

"Sweetie, for four years now, it's been all this 'will-they-won't-they' crap. You finally bump buckles with the big guy and now you're telling me it's a _mistake_? I'm sorry, sweetie, but I don't think I can put up with four more years of this. Whatever you did, you better undo it. Booth is a good guy and he actually loves you despite your being high maintenance."

"Booth and I decided TOGETHER--"

"Well, then you're both morons, Bren." By then I could feel eyes from all points of the lab staring at us. My voice rose anyway. "I mean, could you two be a little less _predictable__?"_

Brennan was furious by then. "It's none of your business." She turned and began to walk toward her office.

"Actually, sweetie, it is. If you're going to make us all suffer like this longer, then it's _definitely _my business."

We stopped in her office.

She turned, still angry. "What about office romances not working out, Angela? Look what happened between you and Hodgins."

"Life isn't a fairy tale, Brennan. What matters is that Hodgins and I gave it a try. And we had a _damned _good time trying. I don't regret it, but I do know that you'll regret this if you and Booth don't actually try it. I mean, it's not like you two aren't together anyway--"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Are you serious?" I crossed my arms. The woman could be so _dense_.

"Yes, of course."

"You and Booth have dinner more than Hodgins and I ever had. You probably know things that married couples know about one another--"

"Such as?" She was unconvinced.

It didn't take long to generate a nice list. "Fears, the name of his first girlfriend, secrets of his past, the size of his penis." Oh. I had her on that last one. I could tell by the blush creeping up on her cheek that she knew it, too. I could also tell by that blush that the image was still quite fresh in her mind.

We stared at one another. Almost angrily.

The stare was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

I turned my head just enough to see that it was Booth.

Once again, thick tension between the two as they looked at one another silently. They were _never _not saying anything to each other. It was more than just uncomfortable. It was _annoying_.

Finally, he spoke. (Take a bow, Seeley.) "Hey, Bones... I was hoping we could have some lunch?"

Bren looked my way. As if I was a safety net or something. Not today, sister. "Angela and I actually have lunch plans--"

"No we don't," I cut her off.

"Angela," she whispered. Surprised. Shocked. Afraid.

I took two quick strides until only she could hear. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but I'm not your damned life raft. You sort this mess out for yourself." I walked out of there as fast as I could, muttering, "Booth," as I passed the poor guy.

From my office, I watched as the two of them walked out of the lab with at least two feet between them. As if somehow they would start mauling one another if they even brushed a shoulder accidentally. Oh, _please_.

Hodgins was chuckling at the pair as he walked into my office. We stood in the doorway, just staring at them. It was like some sick-o National Geographic Special.

"Can you believe those two?" Jack stood opposite of me. Was it me, or did he look hotter than usual that day? Damn. Did he do something different with his hair--or--?

"It's sick, isn't it?"

"Yeah... two people like that. Circling each other like--"

"Like a National Geographic Special."

"Exactly," he laughed. "Kinda freaky that two people could do that forever, though, isn't it? You know... soul mates. Two people who love each other, always making excuses not to be together..."

Yeah, it was freaky. Soul mates circling one another for eternity. But if there was one lesson I've learned since Bren got me this job at the lab, it's that there's no such thing as immortality. Still, the whole thought of it scared me shitless. "Look, Jack--"

He pushed off from the door frame and stepped closer to me. He kissed me softly on the cheek. He didn't say anything. I didn't say anything. Words just didn't seem right, you know?

Then he walked out of the office, looking back at me after a few steps.


	2. Impulsivity

**Ti****tle**: "Impulsivity"  
**Author**: ForensicMama ()  
**Pairing**: Brennan, Booth  
**Spoilers**: A little bit of S4.  
**Chapter Summary**:_Starlight and bickering. Can't get any darn better than that._  
**Rating**: K+/T  
**Chapter: **1-Shot

They walked up the hill. Far away from the city lights. The deep purple of night fell, leaving a million stars to light up the sky. A billion candles. A trillion Christmas lights.

She led the way, slightly ahead of her partner, hands in the pockets of her slacks. He walked with a wide stride to keep up with her short, quick steps. He had shed the tie, which was laying in the SUV at the foot of the hill where the gravel road ended, and left the top two buttons of his shirt undone.

"You in a hurry, Bones?"

She turned, taking a few steps backwards. "Actually, yes."

She was up to something and it made him laugh to himself. "It's a shame, you know."

"It'll be sold to the university. Students will do the upkeep."

"Yeah, but the guy built it with his bare hands. Too bad he didn't have any kids to pass it on to."

"But this way, hundreds of students will be able to appreciate it. It won't become a museum novelty; it'll remain in use as an educational tool for astronomy students."

The building grew from over the hill as they approached. It was smaller than most observatories, being that a man had created it himself out of recycled materials. Glass and bottles, plastic and rocks could be seen in the walls. When the sun rose above the hills, it glittered green and silver.

Brennan fumbled with her keys.

"Why'd you put it on that key chain, Bones? You won't be able to find it now."

"Patience, Booth."

He took a step back and let Brennan search for the right key in the growing darkness.

Finally, she found the key and let them into the little observatory.

Booth's mouth gaped as he looked around. "Wow. This guy made this thing by hand?"

"Shows you what a little bit of determination can do, doesn't it?"

"This place is amazing, Bones," he laughed. Brennan couldn't help but to smile at her partner who was acting like a boy in a mound of dirt. He spotted a small control panel from across the room. He walked over to it. "What does this do-hickeydo?"

Brennan jogged over to him, swatting at his hands. "Don't touch that."

He pulled back the offended paw, "Hey."

"This isn't a toy, Booth. Sometimes you can be such a child."

"You know what, Bones? Have you ever just tried it? Just once?"

She looked at him like he had just spoken Hindi. "Tried what, exactly?"

"You know--be a kid. Laugh. Play--"

"But I'm an adult, Booth." Still confused.

He shook his head and turned around. Someday he'd teach her to have fun. Not today.

Brennan was quick to pick up on his annoyance. "Is--is there a method?"

"A method for being a kid?" He shook his head. "Nah. In fact, it's probably the only thing that there isn't a rule for. That's kinda the point."

"I could learn to let go, be less controlling if it'll please you." She was completely serious. Not a playful notion in her head. She did not get it.

"Bones, it's not about that--" He looked around. Then pointed up. "Does this thing open up?"

She brightened. "Of course it does. It's an observatory. If you can't see the sky, you can't observe. Thus the name."

"Thank you, Merriam-Webster," he muttered, walking back over to the control panel.

"We didn't have permission to open up the ceiling, Booth."

Booth pushed the right button and the ceiling began to peel back.

She put her hands to her hips, "I hope you know how to close that back up, Booth."

"Just relax... I know how to read. This button says open, that one says close. Easy as pie." His hands went back to his pockets and he looked up at the sky. "Does this thing have a telescope or something?"

"We don't have--"

"Permission. Yeah, yeah... Hey, Bones, does that look like Ralph Nader to you?"

She sighed and walked over to him, then looked up. "That's Cassiopeia, Booth." Then she had to hold back a laugh, so she hit his arm. "Ralph Nader?"

He laughed, holding his arm. "Hey, I'm just doing my part, Bones."

"Doing your part?"

"Teaching you how to relax. I bet you know every constellation up there. Why not wing it?"

"Wing it? I'm not familiar with 'winging it.'"

"You know. Do stuff on impulse."

"I don't do anything on impulse, Booth. I always think through my actions thoroughly, weighing pros and cons before choosing a singular course of action. The best course of action. I just don't see any logic to saying that Cassiopeia looks like Ralph Nader when it clearly does not."

"Wow, Bones. Good thing you didn't become an artist."

"Why?" Hands back on hips.

"Because you'd suck at it."

She was offended. "For your information, I can draw a very accurate replica of the Mona Lisa."

"And I bet she looks like she has a hooked nose and has one of those--" he made a gesture at his neck--"big nasty warts with hairs and---"

"You're baiting me, aren't you?"

He laughed innocently. "What? I don't bait, Bones. I'm not a baiter."

"You are _so _a baiter and I find it quite aggrevating."

He looked up. "Hey, Bones. Is that-- Is that Mona Lisa?"

"You're doing it again, Booth." She reached over and closed the observatory ceiling.

"Hey, what'd you do that for?" He reached over and moved her hand out of the way.

"Because you're beginning to irritate me. That was probably Andromeda, but knowing you, you were just pointing capriciously just to get me riled up and I don't know why--"

Booth smiled. "You really don't know why, do you?"

"Of course I don't. Why would I say I didn't know something that I do. And by the way," she stepped closer to him. She poked at his chest a couple of times. "I am sick of people asking if I really don't know something. I don't appreciate ambiguity."

"Bones, calm down a sec."

"I will not calm down until you tell me what you mean. What is it that others know about you that I do not? I should know you better than, say, Agent Perotta--"

"Perotta?"

"--because I'm your partner."

"Bones, Bones, slow down."

"What do I not know about you?"

He stepped closer, sliding his hands along her arms, then tipped his head toward her, "You know me better than anyone, Bones."

"Apparently not," she spat.

"So you don't get everything, Bones, but you do get most of it. Everything I tell you--I tell you more than anybody else."

"Then..." She began, "show me how to be a kid."

It was a challenge. He smiled. A plan formulated. "OK... Let's close up shop."

"Where are we going?" She followed him out, locking the door behind her.

Booth walked out several yards to a clearing alongside the path that led them to the observatory. He took off his jacket and laid it on the ground.

Then he gestured to the ground.

She rolled her eyes. "Booth--"

"Don't you trust me?" She didn't reply. "Hey... if I were going to make a move on you, I'd be more respectful than this. I'd bring a blanket... Trust me?"

She got on the ground, resting her shoulders and head on the jacket. Booth laid down beside her, their arms touching.

"What's that one?" He pointed.

"Ursa Minor."

"Bear, right?"

"Yes... And that one is Cephus..." She grew quiet.

"That one looks like Spider Man."

She laughed softly, but didn't reply.

"Bones? You OK?"

She nodded. Her breath stilled.

To break the silence, Booth whispered, "That one's Perseus. That was some Greek god or something like that, right?"

She looked sharply at him. "You're such a phony."

"What?" He laughed.

She rested her weight on her shoulder so she could look at him. "Angela was right. You do fake being stupid just to make me feel better about myself. That's not necessary, Booth." She stood up quickly.

Booth stood up. "What? Are you mad at me now?"

"More like--annoyed. This is why I don't know you that well. You pretend to be someone else around me. I am not very happy with you." She picked up the jacket and threw it at him, then turned and walked quickly back down the hill.

"Bones, wait! Hey, Bones! Stop!" He jogged after her. "What? You want some honesty, Bones? Some goddamn honesty?"

She stopped and looked at him. "Yes. I would very much like some goddamn honesty."

"Alright. How--how about this? I tease you... because I love seeing you look puzzled. I think it's kinda cute." He put his hands into his pockets, feeling pretty confident in his attestation.

"That doesn't make any sense," she said after a moment of thought.

He stepped closer to her. "And I don't tell you that I know everything because--" His jaw tightened. He stepped even closer. She stood her ground. "I can't give you a lot, Bones. I can't make love to you. I can't kiss you whenever I want. But that's one thing I can give you."

She took a step back.

"Bones--"

Enough time passed that he began to feel worried.

She took two quick steps closer to Booth, grabbed his collar aggressively and pressed her lips warmly to his. It didn't even take a full second before Booth responded, opening his lips to allow her tongue entry into his mouth. They tangled passionately, hungrily for several seconds. The jacket fell to the ground and he pulled her closer to him, pressing her body against his. Her hands wandered up his neck and touched his face tenderly.

Their lips parted slowly, painfully.

She opened her eyes languidly. Then she smiled, almost proudly. "How's that for impulsivity?" He was stunned. "You dropped your jacket."

She turned and continued down to the SUV.

His feet refused to work for a quarter of a minute. Then he sputtered, "Yeah. That's... that's pretty good."


	3. Safe

**Ti****tle**: "Safe"  
**Author**: ForensicMama ()  
**Pairing**: Brennan, Booth  
**Spoilers**: n/a... maybe a little bit of S4.  
**Chapter Summary**:_In his arms, she felt safe enough to let go of those memories. All of the times her casual lover had made love to her then made a quick retreat. It was a lot more painful than she had allowed herself to believe. Until she was safe._  
**Rating**: K+/T  
**Chapter: **1-Shot

She counted the minutes.

It took exactly five before he rolled out of bed. Ten more before the shower water turned off. One had passed before he came back into the dimly lit bedroom.

She still lay wrapped in the sheets, still hot with moisture.

He dropped the towel and put his jeans back on.

"I'm sorry I gotta go, Tempe. Work's been hell lately. The shit-fucks in accounting can't even count their damned toes." He pulled on his shirt and snatched his shoes. One from beneath the edge of the bed, the other from the edge of the bureau. Then he leaned close and kissed her lips.

She relented, kissing him back.

"See ya later. Drinks tomorrow night?"

She sat up, holding the sheet over her breasts. "Sounds like a date."

He chuckled. "I'd hardly call that a date, babe." He kissed her on the forehead, then walked out of the bedroom.

She could hear him shuffling around in the living room. He was grabbing his tie. Pulling on his jacket. Straightening his hair vainly in the mirror.

Five minutes. The door finally closed, leaving a thick black smoke of solemn emptiness. But in that silence, she was free to be weak. Nobody was there to judge her. Call her pathetic. Sweetie. Hunny.

A few shuddering sobs escaped her. She tipped her head back, grasping her wrists around her knees, watching how the shadows reflected from the spackle on the ceiling. Flitting. Flickering. Hot, human tears slipped from the corner of one eye, then behind her ear and down her neck.

She pressed two hands to her eyes, then stepped out of bed and pulled on a robe. Her first thought was to shower. Scorching fluid. Soon, her whole body was so red that it wasn't so obvious that she had been crying just minutes before.

With her hair in a towel, she sat in the kitchen for several minutes before picking up the phone.

"Bones?" He fell back onto the sheets, his hand over his eyes to block the bright light of his cell.

"Did I wake you?"

"What time is it?" His voice clearly answered her question.

"One twenty-eight."

"You OK?"

"Oh. I was just wondering if you were up. I'm just bored..."

Booth slid out of bed. He sat on the edge, gaining his bearings. "What? You wanna talk or something?" It was meant to be sarcastic.

"That sounds nice. Yes."

He shook his head. The things he did for his partner. "Be there in ten."

And he was. He looked much more awake when he arrived. Of course, he was holding a cup of coffee.

"You really shouldn't drink that, Booth. You won't be able to get to sleep later."

"Well, it was either that or run off the road." He came in and sat at the dining room table while Brennan poured herself a glass of water. She sat opposite of Booth. She spun the glass around between her finger tips.

"Bones. Mind telling me what's going on?"

"I just..." The spinning stopped. "What would you say are the necessary components of a successful, monogomous relationship?"

Booth leaned forward a bit. OK. Brennan wanted to talk about monogamy. No problem. He'd had that conversation a dozen times in his head. Each and every time it ended very nicely. "Where's this coming from?"

"You just happen to be the one person I can depend on when it comes to advice on monogamy. Angela enjoys multiple partners and..." She stopped there.

Booth sipped his coffee. "You want to know the 'necessary components'? Like a recipe?"

"Do you _have _a recipe?"

"Bones, it's not that easy--"

"But there has to be a common factor that couples who have enjoyed longevity in their relationships share."

"Love."

Brennan tipped her head to one side. "_Concrete _details would be nice, Booth."

Always the realist. "Love _is _concrete, Bones."

"I beg to differ--"

"Bones--" He held up a finger to shush her. "Mind if I take the soap box back for a moment?"

She nodded quizzically.

"Alright. You say that love is a bunch of chemical reactions--"

"And our individual interpretations of those chemical releases."

"Whatever. Just--Listen, it's late, so you being quiet and listening would be much appreciated." He paused. "Love isn't that simple, Bones. It's a helluva lot more complicated than that. People who've been married for fifty years? They love each other--"

"Once again, _vague_, Booth."

"Alright. Think of it like a chart. Love is the big bold word at the top of the screen--"

"The Heading."

"Sure--" He sipped his coffee. "And then there are all of these subheadings--things that make up 'love'. You know, respect is one thing. Friendship. Enjoying spending your time with one another--"

"Common interests?"

"Sometimes. You don't have to be exact duplicates of each other. That would get kind of boring, wouldn't it? You keep each other on your toes more when you're opposites--"

"Like us."

Booth nodded. "We're always bouncing ideas off each other. You don't agree, you tell me a new viewpoint. I'd hate it if you agreed with me all the time. It'd get boring." He smiled at her softly.

"I think I understand--" She tucked her lip between her teeth thoughtfully. She sipped her water, then muttered, "It's possible that my definition of love was flawed."

"But you like mine better, right?" Cocky grin.

She laughed at him lightly. "Yes." The smile on her lips faded when the memory of earlier that night drifted back. Flawed love. Her eyes began to sting , so she looked away.

Booth knew better. He stood up from the chair and pulled Brennan into his arms. "Hey, Bones. It wasn't completely wrong. It just wasn't completely right."

In his arms, she felt safe enough to let go of those memories. All of the times her casual lover had made love to her then made a quick retreat. It was a lot more painful than she had allowed herself to believe. Until she was safe. She sniffed. Then laughed a little. "I'm going to get tears all over your shirt."

"It washes." He smiled at her again--an encouraging, sweet smile. He released her and went into the kitchen. She followed. He patted the countertop.

She hesitated at first, then hopped up, crossing her ankles, and watched as her partner made his way around her kitchen. He knew her kitchen like he knew the little freckles on her neck and how it looked like a star if you connected the dots just right. He pulled out a tea kettle, filled it with water. Neither said a word. He respected her silence. She didn't want to explain her loneliness.

The water was set to boil. He looked back up at Brennan. Her eyes watched her toes. She flexed them, unflexed them.

Whatever it was that was bothering her was beginning to bother him. Seeing her like that wasn't a daily occurrence. He could count the times she had shed a tear in front of him on one hand. No tears had yet overflowed, but they were being held back by a floodgate.

Booth walked to the counter. Brennan gave him a look that said, "I don't want your comfort, but I'll take it if you offer." False strength. He hopped onto the counter beside her, his legs moving at the same speed as hers.

There was a silence. A long silence before anyone spoke. And Brennan hated it. She knew Booth was reading her like he did. He was going to say something about monogamy and how sleeping with a married man was this and that and the other thing... why hadn't she learned her lesson before, etc., etc...

"He's an asshole, Bones," he whispered. No judgment was in his voice. "He doesn't deserve you."

She looked up at him. The pain in her eyes said it all.

He slid his hand over to hers, squeezed it tightly.

"Whoever he is, he doesn't deserve you."

She gave a tear permission to slip down her cheek. It was a small release. But somehow it gave others the right to follow.

He reached over, sliding his palm and thumb along her cheek. He reached to the other cheek.

"Have I told you lately how... amazing you are?"

A muffled, almost forced laugh.

"All of these men, Bones--The sooner they see what I see--" His hand released from her cheek, but then tucked her hair behind her ear. Slowly. Gently. She had to catch her breath. It had been so long since a man had looked at her like that--with love. Not lust. With love. Admiration.

Time slowed. And for a moment, both thought their lips would touch.

The teapot began to whistle.

They laughed nervously.

"Why don't you go into the living room and I'll bring the tea to you?"

Brennan slipped to the floor. He poured the tea, finding a mug that he had left at her place long ago--"World's Best FBI Agent".

"Huh... wondered where that went."

The hot liquid filled the mug. He dipped the Chamomile bag in it until the liquid turned brown, then walked into the living room.

"Do you want honey or anything--" He stopped and set the mug on the end table.

Brennan was laying on her side, eyes closed.

"Bones?"

She did not stir.

He walked up to her, slid his arms under her, one under her knees, one under her shoulders, then took her into her bedroom. He pulled the covers up around her.

Then he straightened.

He bent over, on impulse, and laid a kiss on her lips. He hovered over her for a moment longer than necessary, weight on his fists, simply looking at her. He reached over and turned off the beside lamp. The room was flooded in coal-black night. He turned and left.

Brennan's eyes opened and watched as he walked out, his shadow against the bright hallway light. The house dipped into darkness as he flicked off the lights.

Once again, she was alone with her thoughts and the ambiguity of tragedy averted or joy avoided.


	4. The Most Cliched Piece of Shit

**Ti****tle**: "The Most Cliched Piece of Sh** You've Ever Read"  
**Author**: ForensicMama ()  
**Pairing**: Booth Seeley, Brennan Tempe, Angela, and of course a baby!  
**Spoilers**: n/a  
**Summary**:This is the most self-indulgent, cliched piece of fanfic crap--slash rant--that you've ever read. You will never look at another fanfic the same!  
**Rating**: T?  
**Chapter: 1-Shot**

Booth walked into a bar. Ouch.

Just kidding. That was a lame opening line. To tell you the fevered truth, this is a _terrible _tale. It will string you along a line of fantasy so ridiculous that you may find yourself falling to the ground in peels of laughter. You may even bust a gut. Warning: That _can _and _will _and _may _be fatal. In fact, this is such a cliched B/B fanfic that you may never see a fanfic the same way again. You may want to turn back now.

Or now.

Now is a good time, too.

Brennan, no, _Tempe _looked up and watched as her partner entered her office. She never wore skirts... well, practically never. One could count how many she's worn since Season One on one hand. But on this particular day, the author of this particular fanfic put her in a ridiculously (and quite OOC) short black skirt. She smiled. And where she would have regularly treated him like any other person in the world, she happened to flutter her long lashes, flash her sky-blue, cerulean-blue, sapphire eyes before standing and greeting him by calling him, "Booth" --Scratch that. "Seeley."

Booth smiled. Not just in any particular way, of course. The writer made him flash his **CHARM SMILE**. The almighty, all powerful, knee-buckling, heart-stopping **CHARM SMILE.** And, although I've never seen it myself, that **CHARM SMILE** (imagine a deep powerful emanating voice when you see "**CHARM SMILE**") made ol' Seeley's cheeks dimple, and his chin--I'm pretty sure that there's an elusive fanficy **CHIN DIMPLE **out there as well--dimple.

And, as in any good fanfic, Booth's opening line was, "We've got a case, Bones."

And, as in any good fanfic, Brennan's reply was, "I'll grab my bag and gum boots."

As they walked through the Jeffersonian, it was odd because not a single scientist was in sight. Nobody to fumble with computers in the background. There wasn't even a Cam or a Hodgins getting ready to help dig that body out of the dirt. But Seeley and Tempe didn't think a second thought about it. They kept going.

Booth began to rattle off facts about the body--found in a swamp, decomposed. Stinky. Corpsey. Gooey.

Brennan smiled at hm. In that knee-buckling, just-got-her-teeth polished kind of way.

FADE TO:

Brennan, no, _Tempe _kneeling over a cadaver. Grossly decomposed. Disgusting. Corpsey. And, as in any good fanfic, "Female, 25-30 years old, wearing on the shoulders indicate she was a basketball player."

"Cause of death?"

(Wait for it...!) "Blunt Force Trauma to the parietal bone."

"So... she walked into a door. Case solved."

Tempe rolled her eyes. "Oh, _Seeley_!" (***gag***)

Immediately, Seeley's heart started pumping red hot blood (immediately bringing us to B&B singing and dancing to Hot Blooded for the millionth time) like lava on methadone. Those sweet words... _Oh, Seeley_... made him want to ravage her--despite the fact that every cubic inch of air in a one mile radius smelled like vomit and death. No matter. This is a cliched story.

Remember, reader, remember...

Later that evening (What case? Pah! Bones isn't about solving cases! It's about getting B&B to bone like nobody's business!), Tempe was sitting around at home. In her underwear. Bra and panties (thong, to be exact). You know, because that's the way that all thirty year old single women hang out on their evenings off. She was sighing, reading a very complex Anthropology book (because, after all, she never got around to buying a new television in **four years**!), and day dreaming about getting knocked up by Booth when--

*KNOCK KNOCK*

Brennan, no, _Tempe _hopped off from the couch like she was sixteen, or, at least, high on something. And, despite the fact that Washington DC is a large metropolitan area with a healthy crime rate, Tempe swung the door open--Woops! Way too late to see Booth standing there holding Chinese Food (Wong Fu's. Who else?)

Booth turned all shades of red--maroon, tomato, strawberry, raspberry, brick-red--at the sight of his partner in skimpy underwear. The bra was so low cut that it didn't even cover her nipples. (Huh. Funny how that one worked out. Perhaps she didn't make enough money to buy a correctly-sized bra?) And the nipples? They were hard as rocks because at the sight of her partner, she became so incredibly horny that they turned into two little marbles of horniness and love-lorn partner-lust. Her panties suddenly became damp because, after all, it's not like she'd never seen the man or learned to control herself around him.

"Hhhhhhey, Bones. Chinese?"

"Uh..." She shrugged. "I'm actually making Mac N Cheese. It's the only thing I know how to make because I can't follow a simple recipe card, despite my holding down several degrees."

"Makes total sense." He invited himself in, taking off his jacket, revealing a tight black tee shirt (all that Booth owned WERE tight black tee shirts, after all) that clung to his rock hard chest. The sight alone made Tempe feel faint and a little bit ill. She wanted to throw herself in his Alpha Male arms and ask him to take her. Take her to the bedroom and make sweet, sweet, passionate, hot love to her. After all, she's never had an orgasm before in her life. Perhaps...? Perhaps Booth could fix that? Of course he could. He's an **Alpha Male.**

They settled down on the couch. Brennan never managed to put any clothes on and somehow Booth's shirt had disappeared in the whole process. No matter. They were just friends. Just partners. But the sight of her made his croch tighten nonetheless. Crotch-tightening is a common issue when it comes to Brennan. Just as her nipples turning rock-hard is an issue for her when he was around.

They ate Chinese and Mac N Cheese until late into the night. All of those carbs and neither had managed to gain an ounce in four years of this nightly ritual.

At last! They were no longer able to control their biological urges. In four years of partnership, even after hugging, kissing, and sleeping in the same bed TWICE, it no longer mattered. Biology and Anthropological Inevitibilities were taking over and making the room uncomfortably hot. He turned and began to trail hot, sweaty, spitty kisses up and down her neck.

"Seeley, no," she muttered. It was a very weak fight, indeed.

And, as usual, Booth did not listen to her arguments. He continued to make love to her.

At last she gave in and they had the best, hottest sex in the whole wide world. They did in the living did it in the kitchen. They did it on the chandelier. They did it in the shower, in the bedroom, on the balcony, on the kitchen table, in the elevator. Everywhere possible. And yes. Temperance Brennan did indeed experience the first earth-shattering orgasm of her life. It was so earth-shattering, in fact, that she screamed, "I love you!" mid-climax. And mid-climax, the two who were _just partners_ found that they did love each other and were willing to pursue the relationship.

But not before tricking their colleagues into believing that they were not a couple. That would be too easy if they were open and honest about it. Besides, Cullen would kick their asses if he found out. He would fire Booth so fast that his head would spin. And Brennan would find that she would no longer be able to work. She would find her life to be meaningless without Booth beside her, she would sink into such a potent depression that she would eventually quit her job at the Jeffersonian and then would move to Estonia. So, secrecy was indeed a must.

Two weeks later and the pair had pulled it off. They had kept their newfound sexual affair a secret. But, as any good Angela would do, she would smell a rat. A sex-rat to be quite honest. She could smell sexual intercourse around her best friend whenever she was within a one mile radius of her. (One mile radii are quite important!) And whenever Booth came into the lab, the air seemed to get just that much hotter...

Could it be? Could it be that...? *shock* *dismay* *cheesily-overly-excited-giddiness* Booth and Bren had finally made sweet, sweet love!!!!

Angela burst *BURST* into Tempe's office. "OH, SWEEEEEEEETIE!"

"What, pray tell, dearest Ang (no E), is of the matter?"

"You and Booth are having sex, aren't you?"

Brennan was quick to defend, "NO!"

"You are! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Tempe's smile disappeared. "Angela, what the _hell _was that?"

"Was what, sweetie?"

"That sound you just made. Is that Arabic? 'Squee'?"

Angela rolled her eyes, dropping the act, and sat on the edge of Brennan's desk. "Beats the hell outta me, sweetie, it's just some dumbass sound fans keep making me say whenever I discover you've had sex with Booth."

"Well, that's just [anthropologically] ridiculous. You never made that sound when you found out Sully and I were sleeping together."

"I know, right? It's ridiculous. Anyway, spill the beans, sweetie, before somebody makes me squee again."

"Well, [anthropologically speaking] I'm pregnant. With Booth's baby."

Angela clapped her hands together. "Squee!" She slapped a hand over her mouth. "Ah, shit. There it goes again. It's like Tourettes or something."

"Anyway, in the heat of passion, despite the fact that I've had lots of illicit affairs with men in the past and despite the fact that I'm a distinguished and educated woman, I somehow forgot to pop a birth control pill while simultaneously forgetting to put a condom on Booth's erect penis... It's a series of insanely irrational mistakes. I have no idea why that happened. It must mean that he's my soul mate or something."

"Oh, that's very logical. So, how far along are you?"

"Twenty weeks."

"Already?"

"I know. I just slept with the man in the last paragraph, but now I'm magically far enough along to know that we're having a GIRL. And the truth is, I've started wanting kids since I realized how cute Parker is. Since Rebecca's obviously dead and Booth has Parker full time, I was babysitting him one night when he started saying adorable things and started speaking like a four year old. He said, 'You is pwetty, Dr. Bones. My Daddy wuvz you.' Isnt' that adorable? And now we're having a GIRL!"

Angela clapped her hands again, "Squee!" She slapped her mouth. "Ah, _fuck_. There it goes again."

"You should probably get a prescription for Topamax. It's a TS medication commonly prescribed to patients diagnosed with psychological disorders such as Tourette's Syndrome."

"How did you know that?"

"Whoever is writing this Googled it and thought that I should be the authority on some random disease, although it has nothing whatsoever to do with bones."

"Once again, it totally makes sense. So. What are you and Booth going to do now?"

"I'm thinking I'll backtrack on all of my 'marriage is an antiquated ritual' crap after a short, but nicely written speech by Booth **_OR _**after a cleverly written plot to kidnap me, then we'll get married and Christine will be our flower girl."

"Christine?"

"That's what we're naming the baby. Christine after my mother, and some random name that we're going to say is Booth's mother's name will be her middle name."

"I think that sounds like a nice plan, sweetie. After all, I've always wanted you and Booth to have sex. That's all I've ever lived for. I don't care about my own personal life with Hodgins, although now we're married and have six kids, because all I ever do is think about you two and how beautiful your babies will be."

Brennan hugged her BFF tightly, then began to cry a little, so happily gracious she was for her friend's heartfelt obsessive compulsiveness. "I want you to be my maid of honor. And maybe we can write in Cam somewhere in there. Maybe she can hold my train or something. And your three daughters can be flower girls, too."

"I really wish Cam could've been in this story more, but honestly I still hold an irrational grudge against her for sleeping with Booth although you didn't want him and he didn't want you and Booth is a hot guy who deserves to be laid. Not to mention, Cam needs to have a romantic relationship with someone before I can truly write her into stories. I like her, though."

"Me, too. Maybe someone can write a dirty girl-on-girl of you and she together?" Brennan suggested.

"That sounds nice. Cam is hot after all and now that I'm officially bisexual, I want to sleep with you and Cam a LOT."

The two women sunk happily into a random seat.

"I'm happy for you, sweetie."

"Thank you, Angela. I'm so glad I'm marrying Booth. He is a strong Alpha Male. Incredibly Alpha Male, with a core Alpha Male self. I really hope that our Alpha Male relationship will last long into the Alpha Male future. Alpha Male.... Alpha Male. Alpha Male."

"Not to mention he looks like a good breeder."

"Amen to that. Not that I say Amen a lot, because I'm a serious atheist. I don't even say Amen in jest."

Angela stood and hugged her BFF again. "Well, you should go home and jump Booth."

"I don't know what that means."

"Of course you don't!"

The two women threw their heads back and laughed over the little inside joke and went their separate ways.


	5. That First Night

**Ti****tle**: "That First Night"  
**Author**: ForensicMama ()  
**Pairing**: Brennan, Booth  
**Spoilers**: SEASON FOUR FINALE SPOILERS  
**Chapter Summary**:_ Booth traces his thoughts, trying to figure out how Brennan got in his bed..._  
**Rating**: T/M  
**Chapter: **1-Shot

How had they gotten here?

That question had run through his head at least three dozen times before she fell asleep. And did she have to fall asleep like that? In probably the most provocative way imaginable? With her leg entangling his, the soft hair between her legs against his thigh, her arm around his chest. Her breasts, full and soft and just as amazing as he'd ever thought, were pressed against him, his own hand resting near her naked ass. And every moment he realized that it wasn't just anybody, it was HER, he found that he couldn't breathe. And something happened inside of his chest—something that had happened before, on at least a hundred occasions. Like that time he told her about making love and she smiled in that way she smiles and…

She shifted. He felt her nipple rubbing against him. He had to catch his breath.

Yeah, he was definitely hallucinating again.

Or maybe he wasn't. Nothing made sense any more. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to stay up all night making love to Brennan. And she wasn't supposed to let him slowly undress her, lift her into his arms, take her to the bedroom—ravage her, love her, caress her, kiss her EVERYWHERE.

He was definitely insane. These kinds of things don't happen. You don't go from talking about babies, to hallucinating absurd things, to being diagnosed with House-esque disorders, to putting your tongue and—other body parts—in places you've only ever dreamed. That's not real. This wasn't real.

Retrace your steps.

Retrace your steps…

His mind only wanted to stay within the last twelve hours. God, what did she use on her skin? She was so damn soft. So soft… And she smelled amazing. She always did.

Retrace… Now!

He knew she was watching. They all were. From different parts of the lab, they watched as Cam embraced her daughter. The thing that was different? Cam seemed so… happy. So different.

She seemed quieter that day. Quieter? That was an understatement. They never stopped chatting, bickering. She was strangely different. It was completely out of character that she hadn't said a word all afternoon.

She found him in the park that evening. The sun was setting. Parker was swinging. His straw colored hair drifted behind him, his feet pumping, his pink cheeks full of life. Booth gave him a few more pushes after he spotted Brennan walking up to them. She had her hands in the pockets of her black trench coat. She waved at them as she approached.

"I'm gonna go talk to Bones, Buddy."

"K, Dad!" Parker wasn't in the least bit discouraged. He kept swinging.

Booth smiled at Brennan as they met on the green field.

"When I was a child, Russ would do this thing—an 'under doggy'…" she made it sound like a question at first, "then he would duck under the swing. I thought it was wonderful."

Booth nodded. "I know what an under doggy is, Bones."

Brennan's eyes shifted to Parker once again. "Is that height safe?" Parker was getting quite a bit of air. Then he jumped out of the swing. Brennan sucked in a sharp breath as the boy tumbled in the wood chips. Then she laughed. "He's quite the risk-taker… like his father."

"Yeah… he's gonna be just like his old man."

"He seems to interact with his peers quite well. He's very articulate. That comes from you, I'm sure. You are very good with people."

Booth grinned. What was she up to? "Yeah, well… genetics, right?"

The smile disappeared from Brennan's face once again. She watched as Parker ran back to the swing, jumped in, began to swing again. She looked at Booth. It seemed that the words caught on her tongue. "I…"

Booth's brows rose in expectation.

"There's something I want to discuss with you. I haven't told Angela—I don't think she'd approve."

"Bones, what is it?" He smiled nervously.

"I've been thinking… I want to have a child… progeny." Booth's mouth began to open, so she quickly cut him off with a hurried explanation. "I've been thinking about it quite a while. I never do anything without thinking. You were right when you said that I don't have much time to think about child-bearing. Fertility in women and the rates of healthy births drop drastically after thirty-five." Booth didn't say anything at first. To call it a shock… would've been an overstatement. She was, after all, a woman deep down inside with yearnings for love and companionship. "I just don't want to reach forty or forty-five and realize that I made a huge mistake by not pursuing this." She looked at him… almost as if she was searching for approval in his face. But he saw something else… Something that said, "I don't want to be alone."

The tension released from his face. "I've always told you that you'd be a great mom, Bones."

She smiled, the stress lines softening. She had his approval. And somehow that was all that she needed at the time. She looked at Parker. They both looked at him. He jumped out of the swing again, landing in the bark dust. He brushed off his pants. "He seems to be having fun."

Booth smiled, as if his mind was not at all on his son. "Yeah…"

Brennan looked at the man beside her. "I think you're a very good father, Booth," spoken with every bit of tenderness and honesty she could muster.

"Thanks, Bones."

Yeah. That's how it went. Maybe if he had been reading into things a little bit more, then he would've seen what came next.

Weeks, or days, later, they were sitting in Sweets' office. Again. The kid looked tired. Probably stayed up late playing WoW into the early hours. He half expected Sweets to be writing his notes in Elvish.

Somewhere in the middle of that session, Sweets was blabbing on and on about the sense of inclusion. Something about… He really wasn't listening.

All he remembered was what came next.

"Dr. Brennan, would you like to add anything?"

She looked up sharply.

"You seem to have your mind in the ionosphere, Dr. Brennan. Care to share?" Silence. "I could bring out the Honesty Box."

"The what?" Now Booth was awake. And annoyed as hell.

Sweets sat up a bit. He loved sharing this kind of crap. "We are all equals in the Honesty Box. Nobody's opinions are subject to persecution. Nobody's belief systems are erroneous. All thoughts are safe…" he mimed a square… "in the box."

Silence. Booth scowled. "Sweets, what the _hell _are you on?"

Sweets sighed. "Look, guys, it's an honesty device. It's supposed to make you feel safe to talk about your innermost thoughts to one another. Can't we just go with this? I mean, most times I feel like I'm completely useless here. Just indulge me, OK?"

"Well, if you're gonna beg…" Booth began.

"Agent Booth, have you noticed a change in your partner's demeanor? I mean, I can't be the only one, right?" Sweets gestured at Brennan.

Booth looked at Bones. Yeah, she was different. He HAD noticed.

"What's up, Bones?"

Brennan looked at Sweets, then at Booth. It was now or never. "Remember when I told you that I wanted to conceive?"

"'Scuse me?" Sweets choked.

Booth shot him an annoyed glance. Then looked back at Brennan. "Yeah?"

"I've set up an appointment at the Fertility Center."

"What? So you're not gonna… do it the old fashioned way?" Leave it to Bones. Even having a baby was reduced to a few bottles of injectable hormones and a handful of test tubes. Had he expected anything less? No, he hadn't.

"Of course not. Conception through natural processes, through intercourse, is only twenty-five percent successful. I simply don't like those kinds of statistics." She looked at Sweets. "Of course, relying on statistics _is _a terrible way to live."

Sweets rolled his eyes. Another shot at psychology… a subtle one, but it hit the mark. Right in the testicles.

"Don't you… wanna have fun? You know…"

"By having sex? Of course, but… I'm not currently dating. And…" And there was only one man who she wanted to father her child. Of course, that wasn't possible. Unless..."I would like for you to donate your semen."

If Booth wasn't already sitting, he would've fallen out of the chair. Brennan was always straight-forward, but what the hell???!!! "Excuse me?"

"I would like for you to donate your semen," she repeated. She allayed a complaint by blurting, "Genetically, you're a perfect match. You are a strong alpha male, healthy, resilient, intelligent, physically strong, you have great features and you have certain capabilities that I lack, such as personal and interactive skills…"

"What?"

Sweets' pen dropped from his hand, rolled off the tablet and onto the floor.

Then the cell phones rang and they were off. Again. To another crime scene. Between then and the time that he was filling up a little cup in a sterile white office, he was wondering what the Sam hell he was doing! Especially when Brennan was out there and he wanted to make love to her… instead, he found himself making love to a CUP.

He came to one conclusion and one conclusion only. He loved her. Why else would he agree to such a ridiculous charade? Why would he let Brennan carry his child? Her child? Their child? When he would have another baby out in the world without a daddy? When he wouldn't be able to feel that first kick or change that first diaper…

Those thoughts and a host of others led to this. The culmination of hours and hours of stormy thoughts.

She knocked momentarily before entering his apartment. She rarely waited for his answer any more. And why would she when they were in such a sick, twisted, demented relationship? Love, fantasies, and now BABIES without SEX?!

It didn't matter how many times he thought of the phrase, "This is OK. This is what she wants. I want her to be happy," he was also squashing a more sinister thought: "This is fucking screwed up."

Brennan took off her jacket and hung it up. She was smiling. And that hurt the most. Her hopeful smile. She was actually looking at the future for once and it had nothing to do with microscopes or novels. It had everything to do with what normal people think of—family, love, children, belonging.

She stopped once she registered Booth's face. She wasn't very good at reading faces, but she did know Booth's face. It was the one face that she could read the majority of the time. And his face said…

"You might wanna take a seat, Bones." He stood a few feet from her. He was wearing a tight tee, jeans, plaid socks…

"No," she replied. She'd rather be standing if he was going to say what she knew he was going to say. That one phrase that she'd been afraid he'd mutter all along.

"Bones, take a seat."

She shook her head.

He walked up to her. More silence. But he didn't let her squirm internally for long. "I don't want you to use my sperm donation."

She didn't know whether to feel hurt, betrayed, angry… But anger was always her first emotion. "You promised."

"I didn't promise. I said I would, but I never said 'I promise.'"

She glared at him, then she started shoving her arms into her jacket. She buttoned it forcefully as she spoke, "I can't believe you. I just can't believe you. You're a coward."

"What??? I'm the coward? Bones, you're choosing a CLINIC over a RELATIONSHIP. You're choosing a SYRINGE over LOVE. And I'M the coward?"

"Yes!"

"No! I don't think so, Bones. Reality check. I think I'm the only one here who's still in the real world!"

She began to tie the tie around her waist. "You know what? I don't want it. I don't want your sperm. I'll just use Fisher's."

He laughed. "Fisher's? No. Uh-uh. That ain't happenin'."

"You can't tell me what to do! You have no authority, Booth. I asked for your approval—OUT OF RESPECT. I asked for your donation. I didn't ask for more. And maybe I was wrong. Perhaps I should choose an anonymous donor. It would make things a lot less messy!" She was positively seething. "Good night, Booth!"

She reached for the door.

Booth snatched her arm, whirling her back toward him, closing the door with one arm, basically pinning her between his body and the door.

"Fuck, Bones, don't you get it?"

"Obviously not!" she shot back. She crossed her arms, widening the gap between their bodies to centimeters instead of millimeters.

His voice was low, dangerous. "I don't want you to take my sperm bank donation, because families shouldn't be created in a fucking lab, Bones. I don't want you to take my 'donation' because I want you to take ME!"

Silence.

He closed his eyes. Held his breath. It wasn't supposed to come out so bluntly.

But there it was. Just out there for her to do whatever she wanted with it.

"What?"

"Me, Bones. I want you… I want us."

The anger melted away. At an alarming rate. "I thought you didn't want… me."

What she really thought was that she didn't think he wanted 'us'.

"What?" He shook his head. "No. Yes. I've always… ALWAYS…" They froze like that. So close that they could see each other's pores, even in the dim light of the walkway. The heat began to boil from beneath his collar. And he knew what to do next. There was only one way to answer her. And it had nothing to do with words or eloquently thought-out speeches. He kissed her. He kissed her deeply. And it didn't take too long before the buttons of her jacket were undone, he was pulling her shirt over her head. His jeans were shed. Her jeans. Their clothes. A trail of cotton. Socks. Panties. All shed at a fevered pace. A desire to touch forbidden flesh, kiss taboo locations…

Hours later and the uncertainty still was in the air. A part of him wanted her to stay asleep. Then they wouldn't have to face reality. Face last night. Face the fact that the condoms were still untouched in the drawer. Face uncertainties. Was it just a night of unrequited passion? A night of procreative activity? Or was it more? Another part of him wanted her to open her cerulean eyes and tell him that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He wanted her to stay. He wanted hundreds, thousands, more mornings like this. Sometimes uncertainty was better than certainty. The lie can sometimes be much less painful than the truth.

He cleared his mind. Pushing aside fears and doubts, he thought of the moment. The night. The fact that he had permission to run his hand along her side, kiss her temple, and pretend that this could be only a glimpse of the rest of his life.


	6. Crashing Down

**Ti****tle**: "Crashing Down"  
**Author**: ForensicMama ()  
**Pairing**: Brennan, Booth  
**Spoilers**: Season 4 finale spoilers.  
**Chapter Summary**:_Fluff-filled thoughts on the Season 4 Finale. Here's your fluff!_  
**Rating**: **M**  
**Chapter: **1-Shot

Sometimes it felt like he was crashing. But she always seemed to bring him back from the edge before she knew how weak he really was.

He had to be strong. Simple as that.

But if she truly knew how _human _he was, would she respect him? Sometimes it felt like the respect she had for him was so weakly strung together, cobwebs held together with dew, that any slip-up could bring their relationship to the earth. A fiery cloud of smoke.

But how much longer could he keep up that facade?

Things didn't turn out the way he had imagined. When he played it out in his head, it always began with a little too much to drink, a slip of the tongue, followed by a cold shoulder.

But somehow, every scenario that he'd come up with didn't even come close to what truly happened. When she found out that he was flesh and blood. Because he discovered the same thing about _her_.

She was at the door.

He pulled on a tee shirt and walked to the door while calling, "Come in."

She didn't come in. She simply waited on the other side, arms crossed, scowl on her face.

The door peeled back.

"Bones. You wanna... come in?" He was bewildered by hot coal burning in her eyes. What had he done? He'd just come out of the hospital twenty minutes ago!

"No," she stated. "I didn't come to socialize. I just came for answers."

"For what, exactly, Bones?" He turned and walked into the apartment. Brennan followed with dammed anger. He snatched up her scarf that was on the couch. "Missing this?"

She whipped it away from him, but then began to point at him with short, jabbing motions. "You--" It took her a moment to voice her fury. "You--You _left _me." She spun around, hand to head, and muttered, "That isn't rational." Then she spun back, anger renewed, "Why didn't you tell me you were having hallucinations again, Booth? I could have--I could have made connections. I could've--Do you not _trust _me? Do I mean so little to you that you would hide such a--such a---Why would you do that to me, Booth? I thought we meant more to--not that we--" Hand to head again. It was all too confusing, muddled, mixed-up. "We-we're not, but--we are _friends_... and _partners_. Do I have to be your _lover _for you to share that kind of thing with me? How am I supposed to be trusted with your life if you refuse to tell me this kind of thing, Booth?"

"Bones--I didn't wanna worry you--"

"_Worry me? _Booth, I sat in the waiting room for three days. They wouldn't even tell me how you were doing because--Because I'm not--" She was breathing so hard, with sadness and anger, that her chest was rising and falling sharply. Tears were budding in her eyes, but they neither fell nor made her voice tremble. "I'm not family, Booth." A tear, hot with anger and pain, slipped to her bottom lip, but true to her character, she didn't fall to the ground in despair. She didn't start bawling and fall into his arms. She stood her ground. "I thought you were dying and... they wouldn't tell me... how you were doing because I'm _nothing_."

"Bones--" He stepped closer, wanting to pull her close to his chest.

She stepped back. "Don't touch me, Booth. What you did was--" She looked at him. It wasn't a welcoming look. "I'm nothing. Is that why you didn't bother to tell me?"

"Bones, it's not like that--"

"Then _how is it_, Booth? Last year when you were-- I thought that I would never have to go through that again and there I was-- I don't mean to be selfish, but when two people _care_ about one another, shouldn't they at least prevent... _pain?"_

"Yeah, they should, Bones--" He stepped closer to her. She was a wild horse and all he wanted to do was tame her. He reached for her arm. She jerked it back. But the walkway was small. She couldn't go far. But he was also smart enough to keep his distance. Just enough space to keep her from lashing out at him.

"Then what does that mean for us?"

He didn't have an answer. He stepped closer to her, trying to touch her. Just once.

She pulled back once again and reached for the door. "Just save it, Booth." She was in the hallway before he could stop her.

She he jogged down the stairwell after her. Bare feet, sweat pants, tee-shirt. It didn't matter.

"Bones!" He shouted after her, jogging down the stairs.

"Don't follow me, Booth." Her voice echoed against the concrete walls.

"Bones, just stop."

She stopped, but she was quick to assert, "You can't tell me what to do, Booth. I'm only your partner, so basically you have no right to tell me what to do." She said it so coolly that it was unnerving to him.

She turned and began to jog back down the stairs.

"Bones, would you just stop?! Bones! Bones! Just stop. You know what, Bones, I screwed up."

That got her to turn. "So you admit it?"

He jogged down until he was standing next to her. "You were right, Bones--"

"I know." Tight lips. Arms crossed.

"When somebody cares about his partner like I care about my partner-- You didn't deserve that, Bones. I'm sorry. I didn't tell you because-- I'm human."

She mulled that comment over for a few moments. "So--what you're saying is that you're subject to misstepping... as we all are?"

There was more to it than that. But, "Yeah."

It took less than a second before she knew that very thing. He wasn't saying everything that was on his mind. She shook her head at him, annoyed, then walked back down the stairs without a second word.

"Bones--" He lept down the last three stairs and blocked her in the doorway.

"What? Do you feel like telling me the truth now?"

"Hey, easy up, Bones. Alright?"

"You still haven't explained yourself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have Tae Kwon Do." She moved to one side. Booth blocked her. She moved again. He blocked her. That back and forth occurred four or five times before Brennan looked like she was going to deck him. Her eyes blazed. "Move out of the way!" She made a quick move to his right.

He wrapped his arms around her and spun her against the wall.

She struggled for a second. "Let me go, Booth."

His voice was as calm as hers, "Not until I tell you a few things, Bones."

"Such as?"

"I didn't tell you because--I didn't want you to think I'm--I'm not good enough for you."

If she didn't look like a frightened animal before, she certainly did then.

"You _are _my family, Bones. But you're right. I should've told you. We're not just partners." She didn't reply to him at all. So he released her with a wide gesture, his arms slapping against his thighs. "There you go."

She didn't move.

He didn't move.

When the tension reached its pinnacle, when he thought he couldn't take the silence any more, Brennan muttered, "Booth, you're a fool."

He chuckled, defeated, annoyed. Somehow he felt he deserved it. "Yeah--"

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him against the wall. "Because you should've kissed me first." She pressed herself against him roughly. Every sensory preceptor in his body exploded. The feeling of his partner's body against his was more than just arousing. And she hadn't even--

She took his bottom lip into her mouth, sucking slightly before releasing it. Not exactly a kiss, but it was more than enough to kick his libido into high gear. She repeated the gesture, sucking longer. He groaned internally--Well, he thought it was internally, but from the grin on her face, it was definitely out loud.

"You like that?" She whispered.

Woah. This was a different side of his partner. And definitely a very hot side of his partner.

She opened her mouth to him, touching his lips lightly with hers, teasing him. He opened his mouth for her sweet tongue. Instead of kissing him deeply like he had expected, she ran her tongue along the bottom of his lip. Then she kissed his chin. "You didn't shave today," she whispered.

"I was um--" He swallowed hard. _In the hospital. Laid up. _"Bones, I--" Her hands slipped up his shirt. She let her fingers fall over every curve of his chest and stomach. What was he going to say again?

If it was possible, she pressed even closer to him. "You have a lot of self control for a man, Booth."

"Well--lots of, um, practice--"

That's when he felt her hands slip down his pants. Bad day to wear sweat pants. They just don't--offer as much _material _as other pants do.

"You find me attractive, don't you?" She knew the answer. The answer was poking her in the pubic bone.

Her breath tickled his ear. She kissed him languidly along his neck, inching her way to his lips, running her tongue against the rough skin of his neck, closing her lips, then sucking lightly.

"Of course I do, Bones."

She hovered over his lips for a second. "Then give up," she dared him.

He took that challenge, taking her mouth aggressively, quarreling with her tongue, demanding a deeper touch. Closer. Softer. Faster. Quicker. More. It had been a long time since he felt so out of control around a woman. And NEVER had he ever felt so out of control when it came to Brennan. And it didn't help that she was wrapping her leg around his waist.

"Booth--"

"Huh--" He grabbed her butt, pulling her off balance. She wrapped both legs around him. He pressed her against the wall.

"Booth." Between heavy breaths.

"What?" He looked into her eyes.

"We should go upstairs."

He grinned. "Thought you'd never ask." He didn't even let her feet touch the ground. He ran up the stairs, skipping every other step until they were inside of his apartment. Clothing was thrown off at unheard of speeds. He didn't even remember removing her bra. Or maybe _she _had?

How many times in his life had he felt like he was losing control around Brennan? Now he knew there was level of frenzied mania that he'd never even tapped until that moment. That moment that he was touching his partner. Her round, soft breasts, her stomach, tight and flat. Her hips and thighs, so feminine. Kissing her. Her kissing him. Making love to _Brennan_.

Time slowed.

And the world never made more sense in the midst of all of that chaos.

Because she made him a stronger man.


	7. Monty & the Doctor

**Ti****tle**: "Monty & the Doctor"  
**Author**: ForensicMama (MilkMamaReturns)  
**Pairing**: Dr. Wyatt, Brennan, Angela  
**Spoilers**: S4: The Bones that Foam, S2: The Priest in the Churchyard  
**Chapter Summary**:_Brennan invites Dr. Wyatt out to drinks at the Royal Diner before the having dinner with Booth at the Founding Fathers Bar. She comes for work advice, but leaves with advice of another sort._  
**Rating**: K+  
**Chapter: **1-Shot

He sipped from the white mug. His large nose, crooked from congenital deformity or perhaps from an accident as a child, brushed against the edge of the cup.

For a moment, her mind wandered to the proportions of his face. She sipped her coffee.

He put down his tea-cup, crossing his arms across the table. "Shall we talk, Dr. Brennan, or are we simply going to stare at one another?"

"Sorry. I'm not exactly feeling talkative."

"And yet you asked me out for a drink. A tête-à-tête over tea and café au lait." He sipped again, finger tips on both sides of the cup. He set it down, eyes on the doctor. "Talkers are no good doers," Wyatt challenged.

"William Shakespeare."

"Ah. Quite right, Dr. Brennan. Now, I suppose that if Monsieur Shakespeare were incorrect, then your business would be moot."

Brennan leaned forward a bit, thoughtfully, "Booth says that having a psychological advantage over the suspects is inherent. When I was in the interrogation room, I thought I was doing fine. I planned my strategy all day, but as it turns out, I was quite ineffective."

Wyatt smiled and sat back a little bit, clutching his arms over his chest. "So, I take it that this _need _to be _one_ with your partner is still as acute as ever."

"Technically speaking, he is better in that area than I am. However–"

"You find it humiliating that you are not as strong in that domain."

"Yes. I've never been bad at any one thing." She leaned forward a bit. "You've interrogated suspects, correct?"

"Dr. Brennan, this is about you and Agent Booth, not about my interrogation expertise."

"I'm not deflecting, Dr. Wyatt. I simply want to know whether or not I can better myself–"

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"_Bettered yourself_, Dr. Brennan."

"I went over a handful of techniques with Dr. Sweets, going over facial expressions and how to react to said expressions."

"There are some things that cannot be learned, Dr. Brennan. When we accept that we are fallible, weak, subject to imperfection, we open ourselves to judgment."

Brennan sipped carefully. Put her mug to the table. "So, what you're saying is that this is normal?"

"One hundred percent."

"And I've opened myself to criticism, which can only better my skill."

"Precisely." He smiled, almost amused. Drank. Than spoke over his tea cup. "So, since we last saw one another, have there been any, I don't know, _developments _between you and your partner?"

Brennan smiled. "Such as?"

"Oh. I don't know. It's better that I don't put ideas in your mind, rather that I hear it straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak."

"Nothing of that nature, Dr. Wyatt."

"So. Your relationship is the same as it was two years ago when we last spoke? Exactly, _precisely_, tantamount as when last we sat in these very chairs."

"Of course not. Nothing is static. We, as humans and as subjects to biological and scientific laws, are always changing."

"So, we are all moving toward something?"

"Yes."

"What, exactly, is that _something _for you and Agent Booth?" He made an impish smile.

Brennan was not so easily tricked. "Booth and I are just partners. If you're implying that we're moving toward a romantic relationship, you're wrong. We're friends. Nothing more."

"I didn't imply anything of the sort, Dr. Brennan. You're reading into my words."

"Besides, our ideals are completely different. We are incompatible–"

"Such as?"

"Love. For him, it's as physically real as you or me."

"And what do you say it is?"

"It's not what _I_ say, Dr. Wyatt. It's a scientific fact that love is nothing but a release of serotonin, a rush of endorphins, all necessary for propagation and survival of the species. Any other interpretation is a societal construct."

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, Dr. Brennan."

"Shakespeare again, but quoting a dead playwright isn't going to make me change my mind."

"How on earth are you ever going to explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love?"

"I'm not familiar with that one. Bates?"

"Albert Einstein." He gestured at her with his spoon, then stirred Sweet 'N Low into his tea.

Taken off guard, Brennan was formulating an answer when Angela walked up behind her best friend. "Hey, sweetie." Her eyes fell on Dr. Wyatt. "Hey, _Monty_, what are you two doing here?"

Wyatt smiled. _"Averting our eyes, oh Lord."_

Angela smiled back. _"Well, don't. It's just like those miserable psalms, always so depressing. Now knock it off."_

Brennan looked confused. "What are you two talking about now?"

Angela sat down beside Brennan. "Booth is waiting for you outside, sweetie. Now run off, so I can have the good doctor here to myself."

"Booth is here already?" Brennan stood and looked at her cell, noticing a missed call. "Excuse me, Dr. Wyatt, Booth and I have dinner plans."

He nodded. "Of course, of course."

Brennan put her jacket back on. For a moment, it looked as if she was going to volley the Einstein quote. Then she said, "It was nice to see you again, Dr. Wyatt."

"And you. Ta-ta, Dr. Brennan."

Angela waited until Brennan had walked out of the diner and climbed into Booth's SUV before she spoke. "So what's with all of this love talk?"

"I'm retired, Ms Montenegro. My priorities have changed."

"So you told her that she and Booth are being ridiculous and should just put us all out of our misery already?"

"Love is begun by time, And time qualifies the spark and fire of it," he quoted.

"If that's true, those two are just about to internally combust."

"Touché, my dear."

Angela reached over and stole a fry. "Good fries."

"And might I commend you on your ability to quote Monty Python. You are a woman after my own heart."

She stole another fry. "I studied up just for you… _Monty_.

----

_This was inspired by my one-shot, which is on my profile, called **Skipping Pleasantries**, featuring Booth & Dr. Wyatt._


	8. A Hundred Tomorrows

**Ti****tle**: "A Hundred Tomorrows"  
**Author**: ForensicMama ()  
**Pairing**: Booth, Brennan, & ???? (surprise guest)  
**Spoilers**: Possibly S4 ending spoilers.  
**Chapter Summary**:_Not tonight. Tomorrow. There would be a hundred more tomorrows._  
**Rating**: K+  
**Chapter: **1-Shot

His mind refused to rest. He knew it was coming and he found that he couldn't stand the thought of missing his cue.

He adjusted the throw pillow beneath his head and continued to stare at the ceiling. The soft hum of the refrigerator motor should have soothed him to sleep, but instead it only kept his mind running an octave above its usual volume, going over the past seventy-two hours again and again. Three days and the world had turned. Was it a good change? When he was in a good mood. But at one in the morning and with less than eight hours of sleep since the weekend began, he was beyond pessimistic.

The lamp outside of Brennan's window cast a stripe pattern of light through the slats and across is bare chest. A gurgle of forced-air heat. Cars rushing by in the street blow with a low whir.

He turned again, this time facing the back of the couch.

His mind still ran.

No. This wasn't the way he'd pictured any of this. But he wouldn't take it back for the world. Not if it meant giving him back.

He twisted again; the sheets looping around his knees.

He sat up abruptly, running a finger through messy hair. Not a drop of gel had touched it in days. Funny how things like personal appearance go on the back-burner when other things are on your mind.

He put his feet to the icy hardwood floors, walked to the adjoining room, and turned on the tap. While it ran, growing cooler, he searched blindly for the right cabinet. Finally, he pulled out a glass and filled it to the brim. Water splashed over, moistening his finger tips.

He drank, guzzled.

The glass went into the sink and he walked around the apartment. There was just enough illumination from the moon and streetlights to light where his feet fell.

Finally, the sound he had been waiting for all night broke out.

A soft cry. Almost like a cat or a small animal, but in three days it had become so familiar to him that he could have easily found his way to it in a crowded subway tunnel.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh," he whispered, opening the door and walking in. He walked to the corner of the room and pulled the little infant to his chest. He bounced softly, whispering, soothing, rubbing his hand along his tiny spine. He could cover most of his downy-soft head in one hand, hold him in the palm of another. The tiny body squirmed angrily in baggy blue pajamas. After a minute he turned his head, finding the first available thing and began to suck at his fist. "Hey there, little man. Daddy's got you. Shhhh..." He kissed the child's head. A second later, the fist popped out and cries erupted once again.

He walked to the edge of the crib and began to dig. Once again, blindly. His fingers hit pay-dirt, brushing against a small plastic object. He plucked it from between the folds of a knit blanket and pressed the pacifier into the infant's mouth. He sucked hungrily.

"Hungry? Yeah. I don't exactly have what you're lookin' for, Buddy."

"You should've taken him to me."

Booth turned to see his partner, hair down and mussed, a large tee-shirt barely hiding swollen breasts and a soft tummy, and a pair of his own pajama pants. But how was it that she never looked more lovely? Ironic since she probably never felt worse in her life. Tired, sore, dark circles beneath her eyes, bleeding, lactating.

"Didn't wanna wake you."

Brennan walked slowly toward him. Every step was still rather painful, but she didn't let that show on her face. "I'm his mother, Booth." She held out her arms to him.

He didn't relent. "You should be sleeping, Bones."

"I have a responsibility, Booth. Give him here."

"No. Go back to bed."

"Booth, I'm way too tired and in way too much pain to play this game. Just give him here."

Booth sighed and handed the infant over.

Brennan held him on her shoulder and walked over to the glider, pulling a Boppy over her lap.

As the infant latched, Booth stood back awkwardly. Should he look? Should he act as if he wasn't in the room? Stare at the sage green curtains? The little blue bear embroidered with his name?

"I don't mind if you look, Booth."

He looked. Next to her engorged breast, the baby's head was incredibly small.

"Does it... hurt?"

"No, actually. He has a good latch. Besides, my milk has finally come in. It actually feels good." She smiled up at him. Nervously. Anxiously. Sweetly.

"Well, I guess that's a good thing, right? He's probably been starving."

"Not really," she said quickly. "Colostrum is all an infant needs in the first days of life. He's been just fine..." she trailed off on that last syllable as she looked down. His perfect pink cheek, dark lashes, fawn hair, wrinkled hands balled in fists...

He sensed the change in her demeanor. From educative to admiring.

He walked over to the edge of the chair and knelt beside her.

Together, silently, lovingly, they watched as he nursed. He reached out and ran a finger along the boy's flushed cheek.

"He's beautiful," she whispered.

"Yeah he is," he replied softly. Time stretched between them. Then he whispered, "Soon enough he'll have girls falling all over him."

She looked at him. Chastising. Serious.. "Not every man's goal is to have women fall at his feet."

Booth laughed, teasingly, cockily. "Bones, he's my son. Of course he'll have girls falling all over him."

"Well," she sighed, looking back down at the child in her arms. "If he's anything like his father..."

"I'm not a man-whore, Bones."

"I didn't say anything of the sort." She looked at him. "Touchy."

"I haven't slept since Friday. I have the right to be a little touchy."

Brennan rested her head back. She allowed her muscles, with the exception of the firm, but gentle grasp she had on the baby, relax.

"Still hurt?" Booth whispered.

She nodded, eyes closed. "If I had any idea how much childbirth hurt, I probably would have adopted." She laughed softly.

"Kind of makes you wonder why women ever want to have more than one, right?" He was jesting, but even that earned him a scientific response.

"Oxytocin. It's a hormone responsible for helping new mothers forget the pain of childbirth..." She almost listed off the other things Oxytocin was responsible for. Lactation. Contractions. Bonding.

"Does your mind ever just shut off?" He teased. He looked back down at the baby. He had fallen asleep, unlatched from his mother, and his tongue was twitching in rhythm with his dream-nursing. He looked thoroughly and blissfully stuffed. Lucky kid.

By then, Brennan was asleep. Suspended in a world where she couldn't make her eyes open, but she was taking in every sensation and every sound. Exhaustion.

Booth reached over, sliding his hands beneath the baby. He took him and stood up. He rocked him softly in his arms. He couldn't get over how beautiful he was. How perfectly formed. Skin slightly yellowed from jaundice, eyes that were bluish-gray when open, skinny wrinkled fingers that flexed and closed, flexed and closed, hair that stood on end like feathers, a face that even at such a young age reflected his partner in every way that he had wished.

He pulled his elbow, where the baby's head rested, closer to his mouth, touching his lips to the baby's head. "I love you, baby boy."

He glanced over to make sure Brennan was still asleep. She hadn't budged. Eyes were screwed shut. He smiled. Then walked to the bassinet and laid his son down.

He squatted beside the glider. Touched her arm gently. "Bones."

Her eyes opened slightly. "Hm?" Her vocal cords vibrated just enough to be barely heard.

"Why don't you go lay down?"

A negative sound. No, she couldn't bring herself to move.

"OK, then. You only leave me one choice, Bones." He stood, taking her hand, and pulled her to a stand.

"Booth--" a soft complaint.

Then he lifted her feet off the ground.

"You don't have to do this," she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Yes, I do."

He maneuvered himself through the threshold and to her bedroom. He laid her among the disheveled blankets. Then covered her carefully.

"Get some sleep, Bones." He flicked off the lamp.

"Booth." Barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?" He walked back over, moving closer to her so he could hear her voice. Her eyes were barely open. Just enough energy expended to see his silhouette against the hallway light.

He sat on the edge of her bed.

"You're a good father." Hormones, or for whatever reason, a tear slipped to the pillow case.

He moved closer, tenderly kissed her forehead, then rested his forehead against hers. "You're a good mom, Bones. I never doubted it. Not even for a second." He sat back. Her eyes were closed, but he knew she was still awake.

The coils in the bed rebounded as he lifted his weight, stood, walked to the door. He hesitated there, looking back at the sleeping outline of his partner against rumpled sheets. He fought with his id as he closed the door.

Not tonight. Tomorrow. There would be a hundred more tomorrows.  
_  
Yeah, this was another take on the tuck-her-in-scenario... ROFL... What's wrong with my brain??? It's also a play on the baby-fic.  
_


	9. An Exerpt From Season Five

**Title**: "An Excerpt From Season Five"  
**Author**: ForensicMama (milkmamareturns)  
**Pairing**: Brennan, Booth & Angela, Cam  
**Spoilers**: Season 4 aired episodes & Season 4 finale spoilers.  
**Chapter Summary**: I love case fics. But I also think there needs to be some love!  
**Rating**: K+ (_Clean _love in this case.) ;)  
**Chapter**: 1-Shot

Cam had not yet seen the newest intern, one Shawn Lynn. As much as she liked the freshness of having a new intern, it still meant breaking them in and deflecting Brennan's verbal assaults. Needless to say, she did not look forward to having new ones come into the lab. The good thing, though, was that they could fit a new person into the rotation, giving the other interns a mental and physical break after a long case, not to mention time to catch up on their graduate and thesis work.

She buttoned her jacket and pulled gloves on as she walked onto the platform. "What do we have here?"

Angela was standing next to the body with her sketch pad, ready to go, "Looks like a mix between The Swamp Thing and Cousin It."

Cam looked over the body. "Somebody really was mad about that Milli Vanilli hoax." Angela laughed at her boss's joke. "So, have you met Mr. Lynn yet?"

Angela grinned. "Have I seen him? Oh, I've seen him and WOW."

That got Cam's interest. "Still doing the celibacy thing?"

"I bought a vibrator," she informed Cam. "But that's beside the point. I could be getting sex every night and still be sane enough to see that Mr. Lynn should be modeling underwear, not lab coats."

"That good, huh?" Cam asked absently, looking over the body. "Looks as if the flesh has been stripped from chest, shaved."

"Disgusting isn't it? Now lay your eyes on that,"Angela nodded. They both looked up to watch as Shawn Lynn walked up to the two women. Was he gorgeous? Yes, indeed. Did his grin make you want to throw yourself into his arms? You bet. Did it make you want to defile the sanctity of the lab? You better believe it. "No ring," Angela whispered to Cam.

Shawn smiled. "Uh, hi." Unsurely.

Cam realized she was staring. "Sorry, you're just not what I expected."

"I get that a lot. I actually taught biology for a few years at the U. Finally decided to go back and go after my real passion. Turning forty does that, I guess." His voice was sexy, smooth, deep.

"Wow," Angela said, ogling. "Forty. I wouldn't have guessed more than twenty-eight. You work out?"

Mr. Lynn grinned, obviously pleased with the flirtatious attitude of the lovely lab women. "I try to stay fit, yeah."

"I can tell," Cam replied.

"So, the body--"

"Oh, yes, the body. Why don't you go over what you can for now. Dr. Hodgins will go over particulates and I'll--I'll just be over here. Watching. Not that I'm staring. Just supervising."

Angela grinned and followed Cam off the platform. "He's cute," she said when they were out of ear-shot.

"I hadn't noticed," Cam replied.

"Oh, please. I hate to go all High School on you, but you're single, he's single and obviously very smart and it's not like you'll be robbing the cradle or anything."

Cam sighed, sitting on a nearby desk. "I don't really have time to get into a relationship right now. You know... Michelle's still trying to deal with the loss of her father, so--she just really needs someone to just be there for her."

"What? You think that all single moms are doomed to celibacy? Give it up, Cam. When was the last time you went on a date?"

In fact, it had been a while. All summer, she hadn't even thought about seeing any men. Her mind had been on her newly pieced together family.

"Exactly," Angela said. "You never know what's gonna happen unless you open yourself up to a relationship. Take it one day at a time."

Cam smiled. "I'm impressed, Angela. That's some solid advice."

"What can I say? Not getting any is turning me into a total Love Guru."

***

Booth pulled the SUV into the parking lot of the small clinic. It didn't exactly advertise its reason for existence, but every desperately pregnant young woman within a hundred miles knew why it was there. Some even had it on speed-dial, but that's another story.

Brennan slowly got out of the SUV. Booth ran around and met her.

"Angela said that the clinic got a restraining order against Aaron Kelnston. He threatened the lead doctor."

They walked up the walk, side by side. He reached out, letting his hand linger over her bottom. She swatted it away absently.

"Wasn't very happy about his girlfriend getting an abortion?"

"Apparently not. Perhaps he was Catholic. Maybe he didn't believe in pro-choice." Brennan challenged, standing straight-backed to Booth as they waited at the in-patient desk.

"Oh, no, we're not going there again, Bones," he muttered, slamming his hand on the bell.

A nurse walked up to the front desk. "Have an appointment?" She asked, before letting her eyes travel southward. "I think you're a little late, ma'am. By law, we don't do anything after thirteen weeks."

Booth held up his badge. "Actually, we'd like to talk to Dr. Blair."

The woman coolly took the ID from Booth, reading it, looking at the man in front of him, reading, looking, as if she'd been through this process a hundred times. She slid her fingers into the pocket, making sure it was legit, then she handed it back. "You can wait in Dr. Blair's office, Agent Booth. It's around the corner, first door on the left. He's seeing a patient right now, so it may be a few minutes."

Booth smiled at the woman. Then he and Brennan walked toward the back. He led her through the door, hand on her butt. She slapped it away.

"Can't you control yourself?" She scolded.

"Not around you," he whispered. They took their seats on small couch.

He straightened his tie.

Brennan examined the room carefully. Some pictures were of the doctor with babies. Others were of him with happy, childless women. It was an odd combination and the pictures of the doctor with babies with smiling mothers was even more puzzling.

Booth grinned. She wasn't paying any attention. He let his hand slide up her leg.

She slapped it away again.

"Not while we're working, Booth. I thought we agreed--"

He sighed audibly.

"You're being very childish, Booth."

"See? You're gonna be a great mom, Bones. You've got that mom voice down to a T."

She tilted her head. Unamused.

He stole a kiss.

She got lost in that kiss for a moment, then pulled back. "Not at work. Somebody has to be the voice of reason, Booth, and we can't be doing this--"

The door opened and the doctor came into the office. He was in his fifties, grayed, but still handsome and friendly. "How can I help you folks?" He took off his jacket and sat across from the pair. His eyes traveled over Brennan's swollen belly.

"Oh, no," Booth said, realizing, "we're not here for that--this, him. We're here for," he flashed his badge, "Do you remember Aaron Kelnston?"

The doctor nodded. "Unfortunately we had to seek a restraining order against Mr. Kelnston. He became dangerously disruptive. I hate doing things that way. It's messy, but in Mr. Kelnston's case, I really had no choice."

"The original police report stated that he threatened to burn the clinic down."

"I had to do something. Besides, it's not like all we do here is help women with their--needs--"

"Abortions," Brennan supplied bluntly.

"Uh, yeah... Anyway, there have been a few cases," he stood and walked to the wall, taking down a couple of photos, the ones with mothers and their babies along with the smiling doctor, "where it was a simple case of depression, not uncommon in the first weeks of pregnancy. I try to make sure that my patients aren't making these decisions on a whim. I'm not in a business of simple termination--"

"Actually, you are," Brennan said. "That's how you make your money, so you really have no other business."

"But I have a conscience." He stood, taking the photos back. "What exactly is this all about, Agent Booth?"

"We found Mr. Kelnston's body," Brennan said. "He was murdered."

He seemed shocked, lowering his head. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, replacing the glasses once again. He took a breath. "In the interest of full disclosure," he stood and walked to a file cabinet, removing a file and handing it to Dr. Brennan. "Lydia Kaufman came into my office asking for a termination. She seemed quite adamant that that was what she wanted, even after a few in-patient visits. Shortly after the procedure, Mr. Kelnston began stalking my office, leaving threats on my answering machine; he even hacked into my email. I had no choice."

"Was he a threat to your business after the restraining order?"

"Actually, no. I received an apology note on my windshield. It's in that file there," he said, pointing. "I didn't hear a thing after that."

Brennan flipped through the file, coming to the end and the hand-written letter. "This is a woman's handwriting, Booth."

"You sure of that?"

"We could give it to Angela, but--" she passed the note to Booth.

He looked it over. It was written with a light hand, curly cursive. "Yeah. Sure looks like it." Booth stood. Brennan stood with him. "Thanks for your time, doc. We'll stay in touch."

"Mind if I take this?" Brennan asked.

"Of course. Anything for your investigation. And may I ask when you're due?"

Brennan paused. "January."

"Congrats to you two."

Brennan was taken off guard. How did he know...?

"Off we go," Booth said, pushing her gently out the office door and closing it behind them.

They got back into the SUV.

"Do you think Lydia wrote the letter?"

"You can do that hand writing analysis thing, right?"

"Angela might know a program," Brennan replied, pulling the seat-belt over her tummy, carefully lining it up along her hip bones.

"Yeah," Booth replied. He found that he was once again staring at his partner.

"Perhaps we should track down Lydia Kaufman. She may know something--" She stopped, realizing that Booth was looking at her in that way again. That goofy, loving grin. "What?"

He reached over, touching her stomach. His hand fell to her arm, then interlocked with her fingers. "You're beautiful, Bones. You know that?"

"So you keep telling me."

"It's the truth. I couldn't be happier that we're doing this together. You and me."

She smiled softly. Their lips met between the seats. A sweet, yet passionate kiss.

She sat back, still smiling. "That's all you get for today, Booth... at least until we get home--I mean, your home. Or mine."

He grinned at the slip. "So you're staying at my place tonight?"

"_Maybe_," she replied dubiously as the SUV pulled out onto the road.

"Well, _maybe _I'll make it worth your while," he said, smiling.

She smiled over at him. "_Maybe _that sounds good."

He squeezed her hand.

.................

_Thanks for the reviews!! =) And just as a side-note, this one-shot does not reflect my beliefs in any specific way, it's just a mini-case fic. Take it as you might. It's just how I pictured the scene if this was a case that came along to the team in Season five. And Cam needs a [live] romantic interest already. I vote hot intern.  
_


	10. Summertime Cloudbursts

**Title**: "Summertime Cloudbursts"  
**Author**: ForensicMama ()  
**Pairing**: Brennan, Angela  
**Spoilers**: N/A (Although, I was thinking about a certain spoiler... but nothing was actually said, just implied.)**  
Chapter Summary**: _A friend to hold your hand; a friend to sit beside you. This is what every woman needs._  
**Rating**: K  
Chapter: 1Shot

In the rain, when the clouds close over the heavens, and the sun is drowned by dense clouds, the world slows. Earth, on its axis so predictable, eases its rotation. Not perceptibly so, but so much that if your mood happens to be just right, you can see clearer--often just a few miles farther. Not enough to be deemed insane, but just enough to see the mountains. Peaks that jut high into the blue, cutting through the mist. Just high enough.

There once was a time where her mother would tell her to come inside. The rain, she said, would make her ill. Time and scientific reasoning made it so that she knew better. The rain was not the culprit. Only susceptibility to a virus. And although that made it so that reasonably so she would not become ill, somehow she wished it were so. She wished that her mother was right. Perhaps if she had a reason to slow the world down, crawl between thick cotton sheets and a warm downy quilt, then she could simply rest until days grew into weeks. Weeks to months. And this would all be a terrible memory. A memory that could be buried by hours of work, bent over lifeless skeletons, bleached white, reflecting the pain she felt inside. And she wouldn't have to say a word. Because they knew how she felt on the inside. Broken. Cold. Alone.

There was something comforting about the shower. It reflected the turmoil within without asking her to cry over it all. She didn't have to shed a tear when the skies were shedding enough to share. She let the warm early summer rain soak through her clothing, her hair, her skirt. She breathed slower, taking it in. A world draped in gray. Cars sliding through streets, splashing up curtains of white. Obscure buildings smudged by an artist's thumb, stained with charcoal dust.

She didn't hear the steps beside her. They were padded by the sounds of the deluge. But she had planned out her words. Every syllable.

But the Walls of Jericho were no match to the warm hand that fell on her shoulder. A moment later, she was no longer the only woman sitting outside of George Washington University Hospital, on a crumbling concrete curb, beneath a summertime cloudburst.

Angela said nothing. She only sat beside Brennan, knowing her friend's secret pain. She reached for her hand. Together they sat. She couldn't promise her that her partner would be OK. She couldn't promise that she would someday get another chance. But she could promise friendship. A warm hand. And a friend to sit beside her when the world was spinning too fast for comfort.

----

_Thanks again for the reviews! I hope you're all excited for the new ep today! xD_


	11. What the Morning Brings

**Title**: "What the Morning Brings"  
**Author**: ForensicMama ()  
**Pairing**: Brennan, Booth  
**Spoilers**: N/A (But you can take it that way if you want.)**  
Chapter Summary**: _Loved_. Was it truly past tense? Or did he want to still tell the woman in his shower that he wanted to hold her when she cried?  
**Rating**: T  
Chapter: 1Shot

"Booth?" She listened for a moment. When she heard nothing, she decided to be quiet. Perhaps they were sleeping? She hung her bag and jacket on Booth's coat hooks, between a tiny green coat and a red bike helmet.

When her cell phone rang, she quickly answered it, hoping she didn't wake the sleeping Booth boys. They would, after all, be inevitably sleeping.

"Hi, Angela."

"Why are you whispering?" Angela sounded half-amused.

"I just walked through the door. Nobody's here--they're probably sleeping." Brennan walked into the kitchen and ran the tap until it ran cool, then took a drink of water.

"Did Booth take him to the hospital? Poor li'l guy."

"I said that it wasn't necessary, but he insisted."

"He's his _father_, Bren. That's what parents do. They worry."

Brennan wanted to sideline Angela with a precise answer, but somewhere she knew that Angela was absolutely correct.

"I should go."

"Booth have him tonight?"

"Yes."

"Well, I should let you go then. I just wanted to know how _Junior _was doing. Talk to you later, sweetie."

"Bye, Ange." She folded up her cell phone, sliding it into her pocket, but not before putting it on silent.

She crossed the living room and into Booth's bedroom. The door was closed. She knocked softly. Just enough for him to hear her, but not enough to be woken if he was sleeping.

No answer.

She opened the door a hair and peeped in. Booth was lying on his side, his arm wrapped around his sleeping son whose cheeks were flushed with fever. She laughed at first. God, they were cute. And she knew enough to only admit that to herself. Admitting that aloud could risk tearing down the walls that were so weakly mortared as it was.

But in moments like that. Standing in the doorway. Dim moonlight casting a shadow over the two of them. She wanted to scream that she wanted to be there, too. Laying on her side, her arm around the boy and his father. He would open his eyes and smile, hold her hand and tell her that he loved her. But that wouldn't be like her. She would be a hypocrite for wanting those things. Right?

He must have sensed her in the doorway. He whispered, "Bones?"

"Um," she walked the rest of the way into the bedroom and sat opposite of where the little boy slept. He was on his back, his elbows bent, chubby toddler fingers balled into fists, dark wisps of hair clinging to a sweaty fevered brow. "I just wanted to see if you needed anything. I picked up some Children's Motrin on the way... didn't know if you had any of that."

"I bought some."

"Oh. Is he... OK?"

"He's fine, Bones. Doctor said it's just a bug. You know. Water, Motrin--"

"I told you." A small smile of triumph.

"What's the point of having health insurance if you don't take him to the hospital, Bones?"

"For major illness or injury. I explained this last time he was sick."

"It's that damn Jeffersonian nursery. It says _well-baby,_ but I've yet to see one _sick baby_ be sent home."

"There isn't much of a choice, Booth. We work full time--"

"That's why I left early."

The child stirred, his face contorting in pain and childlike despair. Then he cried. He opened his eyes, his bottom lip jutting out. "Mama," he whined.

She sighed, leaning over and picking him up. His two-year old legs wrapped around her hips. He was tall for his age which allowed for his ankles to hook. She bounced him, somewhat agitated by his cries and the argument over insurance and nurseries, which was all undermined by the disquietude created by the half-time parenting situation.

The boy continued to cry.

"Just give him here, Bones."

She turned her body to the side. "No. He wants me."

"I'm just trying to help, Bones."

"I just want to hold him, Booth. You don't have to be so testy. You've had him all afternoon!"

The boy screamed louder. They shouted above his cries.

"Because you weren't willing to put off staring at _skeletons _to take care of our son!"

She glared at him. One of those death-glares that he had once been afraid to create, but now were all too common. Tension of this insane parenting situation coupled with the fact that he found her to be so callous and scientific when all he wanted to do was tell her that he loved her had turned their rage into a literal Montezuma. Maybe all of that love was imagined? Or driven by the sexual tension? Now that's all it was any more. TENSION.

"You're an asshole, Booth."

She walked past him and paused at the door when he said, "Fuck you, Bones." He had wanted to say it for so long. Fuck you. The harshest words in the English language. And as good as they felt being practiced in his head, and as good as they felt rolling off his tongue, he immediately wanted to reel them back in as soon as they were uttered.

That's when Samuel threw up all over his mother. Vomit slipped down her shirt, splashed all over her neck, in her hair, between her cleavage. Chunky, curdled milk, bits of graham cracker, all in a slimy conglomeration of greenish muck.

She froze.

"Oh, Bones." Booth jogged past her, getting a wash rag and moistening it under the sink in the adjoining bathroom. He came back.

"Just get Sam."

He did, taking him to the bed. He was practically untouched by vomit. A slime streak down his chest. A little on his arms and thighs. Nothing like the soaking that had been done to Brennan. After washing him down, it seemed that the release-of-pressure of his twisted stomach and the warm rub-down had soothed him into a light sleep. Booth let him lay there and came back to Brennan, still standing, arms away from her sides, vomit slowly making its way down to her navel and under her slacks.

After some sympathetic looks, Booth took her into the bathroom and closed the door so that the sound of water running wouldn't wake up their son. He rinsed the wash rag and turned to Brennan.

She looked really upset. Her eyes almost looked like they would spill over.

"Kids puke, Bones." Was that as sympathetic as he could get? He _was _an asshole. "Let me help you." He started with her arms, avoiding her eyes. Was she that upset about being barfed on? Or was it more? Was that just the straw that broke the camel's back? Their son throwing up all over her in mid-fight. The right arm was clean. He rinsed the rag, reached for the next arm. Washed it. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the clean hand lifted and wiped away what he imagined were tears. He was afraid to address them and risk embarrassing her. But then again, if he didn't address it, would he hurt her feelings? The same feelings that he didn't have too much regard for when he told her 'fuck you' five minutes before? More guilt.

He looked at her. In her eyes.

"Bones--" He washed her face. Even though there were only a few spatters on her cheeks and chin, he took his time. It felt good having her so close again. Even given the situation. "What's wrong, Bones?"

She didn't want to speak for fear that more tears would spill over. Finally, she whispered, "What have we become?"

"So we fight." He paused and led her to take a seat on the toilet. He began to take off her shoes. "We always fought."

"Bicker, Booth. We bickered. We _fight _now."

She was right. For once Brennan had corrected _him _on human matters.

"I don't know, Bones..." He got up, sighing and turned on the shower.

He took her hand, stood her up and began to unbutton her shirt, all the while not looking at her eyes and noting the irony of finally taking off her clothes (again) and not feeling at all like taking her to bed.

He took the shirt off, sliding it over her shoulders. And with that, there was that familiar feeling. Old, but familiar. Although vomit clung to her bra, she was the most beautiful person who had ever stepped into his life. How had he forgotten?

"Things change, I guess," he muttered, ignoring the feeling.

She stepped out of her slacks. And finally, she found her voice again to ask what had been on her mind for several months, "Do you hate me?"

He paused. "No, Bones. Things don't change _that _much."

But there she was. Sure she was covered in vomit, but she was in her underwear, _crying_, feeling terrible, and he had only looked in her eyes a handful of times. She nodded and stepped into the shower, leaving the bra and panties on.

"Just gonna leave those on?"

She nodded and closed the shower curtain.

Booth walked out of the bathroom, noting that he needed to snag a towel for her when he came back. On his way, he stopped and looked at their son. So perfect with his dark hair and green-blue eyes. Her chin, his nose. No matter what, they were in it together. No matter what, he would look at the boy he loved and have to tell himself how much he loved her. _Loved_. Was it truly past tense? Or did he want to still tell the woman in his shower that he wanted to hold her when she cried?

He walked to the laundry room and returned with a puffy Finding Nemo towel in hand. He knocked at the door softly. Not too loud. He didn't want to disturb Sam. When she didn't reply, he walked right in to find his partner looking in the mirror naked.

He closed the door and let himself in. "Brought you a towel." He had noticed her index finger tracing a tiny stretch mark that crept between her pubic bone and her navel. He didn't say anything.

"Thanks, Booth." She brightened artificially and wrapped the towel around her body.

"I think they're beautiful." He leaned against the counter.

"What? What's beautiful?"

He smiled and moved away from the sink, stepping toward her. There was more familiarity. Familiarity in how she received his presence with a sly half-smile. A knowing grin. What was he up to?

He didn't personally know what he was up to. Originally, he thought it was an opening to make up for those terrible words. For all of the terrible words he had said since Samuel was conceived. But as he moved closer and let his thumb touch the hem of the towel, their eyes locked. More familiarity. More of that old feeling. That first (and only) time that they had made love. He tugged at the towel. The tendons in her neck tightened, unsure of how she should react. She wanted that familiarity back, too. She wanted him to look at her the way he was. Teasing. _Loving_. Sexy. She let the towel fall free. Where a minute before her nudity in front of him was mundane, it was no longer every day. It was sexual. It was personal. It was _intimate _the way he touched her, letting his fingers tickle her body. He traced the little stretch mark.

"This," he whispered.

She gave him a look of disbelief.

"You said-- he rested his head-- right here. Our baby boy, Bones. A little of you. A little of me." His fingers began to explore again. And he realized this was the first time he had touched her body since having Samuel. And it was a different body altogether. Curvier. Sexier. Her breasts were fuller, her waist seemed small in comparison. And then there were all of these beautiful reminders of how two became one in this body. His hands against her stomach, firm, broad, warm, familiar. _HIS _hands took her breath away. Just like before. Just like the first time.

He touched her breasts. "And this is where you fed him."

Her eyebrows met in the middle momentarily. Where was he going with this?

"I love you for that, Bones... for everything... him... this. Sorry I've been such an asshole." It was sincere. She knew that.

He kissed her shoulder. She had to remember to breathe.

He touched her hips. Her breasts. Her stomach. Her butt. But in every touch, she knew it wasn't because she was an object but because he truly did love her._ All of her._

She pulled his shirt over his head. Kissed his chest. Let her hands roam over his firm stomach.

Finally their lips met. Hungrily. Wildly. Desperately.

She yanked his pajama pants down around his knees, pushing him against the wall and wrapping a leg around his waist.

"Wait," he said between labored breaths. He looked into those eyes of hers. Clear-blue. The same as ever. "I don't hate you, Bones, I _love you_."

Being a mother had been a lesson in love. No chemical in the world could make her feel the way she felt for her son. And no bodily reaction could make her feel that way for Booth, either. Barely above a whisper. She could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth, but at the same time, she could. "_Iloveyou_."

They switched positions with Brennan against the wall. He laughed. "When were you going to bother to tell me?"

She looked at him, shook her head a bit, and smiled. "I figured_ I'd_ bother to tell you when _you _bothered to tell _me_."

He kissed her again.

And when the sun rose again the next morning, Booth smiled. That was the way it should have always been. He slipped his arm over their son and around Brennan's waist, his hand resting on her hip.

She smiled, opening her own eyes to what the morning had brought. She touched his arm. He moved his hand off her hip and held her hand over their son's heart.

----

Thank you all for these wonderful reviews!!! Two episodes of Bones air this week, Wed & Thurs 8/7c! :D


	12. Drinks & Candid Smiles

**Title**: "Drinks & Candid Smiles"  
**Pairing**: Max, Brennan  
**Rating**: K+  
**Spoilers**: n/a**  
****Chapter: 1-Shot**  
**Summary**: _This spawned from the giant prompt-fic-writing game. Max Gives Brennan Advice._

Max concentrated, aiming an ace between two loose fingers. The card slipped from his fingers, twirled through the air and landed in a Yankees baseball cap in Brennan's chair.

"Now you try it, honey."

Brennan gave him one of those looks that she had so perfected over the years.

"Oh, c'mon. Humor your old man."

Brennan rose from her seat and walked over to where her father was sitting.

She took the card and flung it. It landed on the cap's bill.

"Nice job."

"You're coddling me."

"I'm your father. It's my job." He laughed airily. Then the look of humor melted into a more serious look. He had been dancing around this conversation all evening. Even Brennan knew it was coming. "You can't let fear run your life, Tempe."

Brennan took another card and examined the red hearts with her thumb before looking up at her father. "This is the part where you compare your stories of heroism in an effort to assuage my own fears."

Max chuckled and slid closer to his daughter. He reached for her hand. Brennan tensed for a moment before letting her father take her hand in his. His own hand being large and wrinkled with age. Hers being much more slender and young.

"I've faced down some nasty stuff in my day."

"Much of which you've brought on yourself, Dad."

"You got me there, honey. You got me there." He thumbed the ring on her finger. The one that had belonged to his wife. "You know what I regret the most?"

"Leaving us?"

"Yeah... But I was gonna say that I wasted time." He took a breath. "I'm an old man now, Tempe."

"Aging is inevitable."

"Just stop with the science talk for a moment and hear me out." It was almost forceful. She was silent. "I met your mother when I was sixteen."

"I... I didn't know that."

"I didn't tell her that I loved her until I was twenty-five." Brennan was silent. She didn't quite understand where her father was going with this. "Had I been braver, I would have had nine years to hold your mother at night. _Nine years more_, Tempe... But I was a kid. And I didn't know what love was back then--I guess."

"Love is..." She sucked in a deep breath, stilling her argument. "You couldn't know that mom was going to die so young, Dad. There was nothing that you could have done. Holding onto regrets is illogical."

He nodded and stood, releasing her hand. "I should go, honey. Gotta big day with the kids tomorrow. We're making toothpick bridges--testing the strength of different shapes. Best bridge wins." He chuckled good naturedly and pulled his jacket on as he walked to the door.

Brennan followed her father in that direction. He opened the door, then paused and turned toward her. "I love you, honey."

"I--love you, too, Dad."

"Every day is an opportunity, baby. Every day. Don't let it pass you by. That Agent Booth is a good man."

"We're just--"

"I know, I know. It was just an observation. He's a good man."

Brennan smiled. "Yes. He is a very good man."

The door closed, but she looked at it long after her father had gone away. What was her father trying to say? Metaphors were never her strength. She grabbed her jacket from the coat hanger and walked out of her building with only one destination in mind. She had no intention on pouring out her undying love to Booth, but she did know one thing: she wanted to be close to him. Why did it have to be more complicated than that?

She knocked. "It's Bones."

The door opened and the moment he smiled at her, she knew that she _wanted _it to be more complicated than drinks and candid smiles.

---

_Thanks again for the compliments! _

_If you can help me in a bind, I have a Cam-Fic called "Keep Her" on my profile. I have no idea where to take it from there. It seems so cliche no matter where my mind takes it. Suggestions? ;)_


	13. More Than You Know

**Title**: "More Than You Know"  
**Pairing**: Booth, Brennan  
**Rating**: T/M  
**Spoilers**: Finale Spoiler Theories**  
****Chapter: 1-Shot**  
**Summary**: 

May 14, 2009 - A Thursday Evening

He leaned his shoulder against the wall and watched for several minutes without saying a word.

She was up to her elbows in flour. She looked up after a second of rolling out home made noodles. "Booth, you're going to spoil it." She wiped her hands on a hand towel and walked over to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," he shrugged. "You didn't have to do this, Bones."

"I want to, Booth," she smiled at him with the dish towel in her hands. "You should be resting. Your stitches--"

"Don't hurt."

She tipped her head to one side. "You're five days post-op, Booth; you should be resting. I'll bring you your dinner--home made pasta, and _you _will rest."

He chuckled, looking over Brennan. When was the last day he had touched her? Really _touched _her? Even feeling sore like he was, he couldn't keep his eyes off from her. He let his eyes linger. They traced the blouse she wore, showing the tops of her white breasts, flour sprinkling a spot where she must have scratched. A bit of flour splashed her cheek. Damn she was cute. No wonder he couldn't stop thinking of her. No matter how casual they agreed it was, he couldn't help himself. When he was in bed with her, he couldn't convince himself that it was a partners-with-benefits kind of situation. But it hurt knowing that _she _felt that way.

"What?" She smiled at him. Her cheeks were flushed from the boiling water over high heat.

It had been too long. He stepped closer, brushing two fingers against her cheek.

"Do I have flour--?" She looked herself over, glancing down, then back up. When her eyes flashed upward, they settled on his. He stood closer now.

He let his fingers brush over her breasts, dusting away the flour.

A simple touch, and her body shook, tingled, blushed.

"Did you want to have sex?" She asked. So matter-of-fact.

His grin melted. His hand dropped to his side, but he didn't back away. "Probably not, Bones--"

"Because we agreed to not do it again? Or perhaps you're too sore? I could be gentle if you like."

He laughed, shaking his head and stepped back some, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

"I could be on top if it puts less pressure on your--"

He pushed off from the counter. "Thanks for being in the O.R. with me, Bones."

That's when her eyes faltered, dropping to the ground for a few seconds before bobbing back up. "That's what partners are for."

"No, Bones. It's not that..." Sometimes he hated that he had to tiptoe around her, around his emotions. But just one more touch-- It was a vacuum he had found himself in. Always swearing that it was the last time. At least until she could love him back or at least he could tell her how he felt. But the whole thought of ceasing their time together until something that may never come _came_-- The whole thought was too painful. He was invading her space again, touching her cheek. Powder white flour in her hair.

The wooden rolling pin that was in her hand dropped to the floor with a clink-clink-kaclink as he reached out and untied her apron strings. He tried for a moment. He _really tried _to see her the way she wanted to be seen when they were together. A woman. Sexual. A body to be taken any way he wanted. Hard. Fast. In the hallway or kitchen. Living room or shower after a few drinks. For pleasure. For recreation. For fun. Because he _did _want her. He wanted her body. He wanted to sink into her, slide into her, feel her body ache against his. Feel her fingers dig into his back as she climaxed. So _yes_, if that was the way she wanted to be taken and if that was the only way he could _have _her, then that was how it was going to be. Just as long as he could shut off his heart.

He pulled her apron over her head, throwing it to the tile. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to feel her mouth against his, her tongue twist in his mouth. But something was special about a kiss. And she wasn't ready to give him that part of her. Their lips bounced against an invisible negative field, not touching. He kissed her cheek, her neck.

"Are you sure about this, Booth?"

He unbuttoned her top, laying kisses on the cleavage that had been tempting him all evening. Soft and slightly smelling of that perfume that drove him nuts--vanilla, orchid. Sweet, mind-numbing. Which was exactly what he needed. A numb mind. Putting his heart in a box. Shutting the lid. Hiding it in a shallow grave so he didn't hate himself for touching her, indulging in his strongest desires. His kisses on her neck and breasts were like small attacks, taking in her body, the taste, the feel. Her body limp in his hands. He took it all in as if it were his last chance. It was always his last chance. Every time he swore he'd never touch her again. Not that she didn't care. She craved him as much as he craved her. But he wanted more. At the same time, he couldn't bring his hands to stop unbuttoning her slacks and sliding them lower on her hips, threading his fingers through the lace of her thong panties, up and beneath her bra.

He loved that he could make her do something. And he hated himself for it. Getting pleasure from making her melt under his touch, moan at his movements, as he rocked his hips against hers. Dr. Brennan who was always in control was _never _in control when she was with him. It was a new side of her. A delicious side of her. Something he wanted more of but could never get enough.

They stumbled toward his bedroom, kicking off shoes and other garments as they made their way, half dazed, half drunk with lust and ecstasy and a strong hunger to touch and be touched.

How long could he pretend? _Just as long as she could. _But he needed her. Her caress. Her body, warm, soft, smooth against his. She carefully removed his tee-shirt. He kissed her neck, letting his mouth linger against the sweet untainted skin. His tongue tasted its smoothness, its softness. She lost her balance, falling to her bottom on his unmade black satin sheets. He yearned to feel her, what it felt for her to give herself to him. It was selfish, he knew this, but he also knew that _this _was probably as good as it gets.

And how could he complain? After all, his partner was naked, laying in his bed, cheek kissed by flour, lips untouched by him. _Waiting for him._ He could have her body, but he could not have her heart. But how could he complain? He would be a selfish bastard if he were to even _suggest _that he was unlucky. The woman he was so madly in love with was with _him_. For now. But she was with him all the same.

Sometimes he fought that feeling. A feeling of being a predator, or of being one of those men who he had always despised. Those men who would have sex without any connections. Those men who Brennan said, "It's just sex" when she spoke about her encounters with him. Of course he felt that way. He _was _that man. And to her, it was _just sex. _

But maybe his partner was right. Maybe it was all about anthropology and biology and all of those 'ologies. He couldn't help himself. She let him touch her. She let him make love to her. She was a drug. A drug whose legs were wrapped around him at that moment, her heavy breaths in his ear, a soft grunting when he thrust into her. She enjoyed it. He enjoyed it. But it was so divergent. He felt dirty, but pleased. He felt sorry, but wonderfully exhausted.

Their bodies worked so perfectly together. No wonder she was so addicting. She always seemed to know exactly what he wanted and needed without speaking a word. Same with him; she had said on many occasions that she had never felt such satisfying and consistent orgasms than when she was with him. That was a compliment, right?

A better compliment would be for her to let him hold her after he had made love to her... let him whisper that he loved her... let him kiss her tenderly. _That _would be a compliment.

Every time ended a little differently, but with the same tone.

She was breathless. "You shouldn't have been so... vigorous, Booth. You could have strained yourself."

"I'm fine, Bones." He hovered over her, sweat beading between his shoulder blades, muscles bulging from the exertion. He didn't quite want to just 'roll off from her'. He wanted to stay there. Look at her. So relaxed, her hair fanning out, curling softly here and there, eyes sparkling from the exercise--gorgeous, sexy. If only he could freeze that moment.

She reached around and touched the bandaging.

He winced, sucking air through his teeth, closing his eyes.

"Sorry."

He sat up, not caring to cover himself. They were beyond that. Beyond feeling embarrassed when they were around one another. And yet she never ceased to amaze him with her beauty. He couldn't imagine being with her ever getting old.

She sat up, too, kneeling beside him and inspecting the bandage.

"Bones--"

"Just let me see, Booth."

"You deal with corpses, Bones. I can't see how you could know anything about this."

"Just let me see it."

He gritted his teeth and turned just enough for her to see.

She had to straddle one of his legs to see the bandage. "It looks terrible, Booth. I think you may have pulled a few stitches out. Does it hurt?"

Does it hurt? Does _what _hurt? "More than you know, Bones." His fingers itched to touch the leg that was so close... He slid his hand up her thigh. God she was _soft_, smooth.

She wiggled a bit under his touch. "Stop, Booth," she ordered him.

His hand wandered more. So many of their encounters had been spur of the moment. Sometimes they were drunken libidinous attacks. That happened more times than most. Sometimes they were just in such close quarters--a mobile home at a Panhandle circus, for example, or a dressing room at an ice rink, that things were bound to happen. Things that he said he wouldn't feel guilty for, but it was a natural by-product of their times together. Sex shouldn't be _just _about sex. And yet, there he was, going against everything he had ever stood for. _So he could be with her. _

He twisted her body gently, throwing her back into the sheets.

She must have been shocked by that quick movement because she didn't say a thing.

"You're beautiful, Bones." He could feel his heart thudding against his sternum as he held his body weight over her on tensed arms.

She didn't say anything. She looked afraid. Maybe she knew more about the human species than she let on. She could see it in his face and _he knew it. _

She silently nodded. Then looked back into his eyes. "You..." She tried to find the right question. Something that would tell her what she needed to know without insulting his pride, or hurting him. But she had wanted to ask on several occasions. But that look in his eyes--it both frightened her and emboldened her. "You made love to me, didn' t you?"

He didn't answer.

The fact that he didn't answer was scarier than if he had replied that he _had _been making love to her. All along, she was confident that he was on board with the sexual agreement they had. She should have known better.

She slipped beneath his arm and slid her slacks and top back on as quickly as she could.

"Bones, what are you doin'?"

"I think it's time to go, Booth. Dinner's ready, help yourself."

"You haven't eaten."

She looked him in the eye. "I'm not hungry." And left the room.

Booth tumbled out of bed, throwing on his boxers. He flew out of the bedroom, blocking the door before Brennan could leave.

"I would like to leave, Booth. You're in my way."

"Why are you leaving, Bones?"

"Because I have the right to." She looked at the door, then back at him. "Could you move, please?"

"You're pissed."

"I'm not."

"You are. And I think I know why."

"I'm not mad, Booth."

"But you're leaving."

"Because I have work to do. Please move."

They stared one another down in silence for a minute or more. Neither one relented. Neither one moved. Nobody had to say a word, all was said in their looks.

"Fine, Bones. Have it your way." He moved his hand from the door.

"Thank you." She pushed past him and into the hallway. The door shut softly behind her.

Booth stood there for a moment. His pride kept his feet from moving. Finally, he ran out into the hallway.

"Bones, what if I--?"

She froze and turned slowly to face him once again.

"What if I told you--" He noticed her body tense. Her cheeks grew hot. A sudden realization. Nothing is worse than having someone not return your love. "I'll--I'll see you Monday, Bones."

Her eyes dropped. Did she look, for that fraction of a second as if she was going to cry? She looked back up. That same look of defiance and Brennan-like confidence. "Good-night, Booth."

He watched her until her shadow disappeared on the stair well.


	14. Guy Hugs

**Title**: "Guy Hugs"  
**Pairing**: Booth, Brennan, Sweets  
**Rating**: K+ (Keeping down the rating on this one.)  
**Spoilers**: S4: Mayhem on the Cross & Cinderella in the Cardboard**  
****Chapter: 1-Shot**  
**Summary**: Just look at the icon.

"Mental illness is a legal status. To plead insanity, Barbara Cunningham has to undergo a mental examination." Sweets set his tea cup down next to a half-eaten tuna sandwich and an untouched pickle spear.

Brennan made a face before drinking her coffee.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"It's not that I don't believe you, it's simply that I'm not too sure how accurate a plea of insanity can be."

"Right. Because psychiatry is a soft science and all that."

"All that what?"

"It's a phrase, Dr. Brennan. I was undermining your faulty assertion that psychology is somehow substandard..."

Stabbing at lettuce, she murmured, "Still a soft science." She was not too shy to eye-ball him as she spoke those words.

"The idea is obviously beyond your ken." Maybe it was a bit of a challenge. He hid a smirk behind whole wheat bread.

She huffed, "It's _not _beyond my ken, Dr. Sweets. I simply don't want to _waste _my time learning about psychology. My time is better spent studying an _accurate _science. If I wanted to, I could make it _within _my understanding."

They were silent for a while. Sweets was silently brooding. It didn't take him long to realize how pointless that particular endeavor was. "Hey. Thanks for... you know. Last night."

"Dinner? It wasn't my idea."

"I was actually referring to Agent Booth and you sharing stories from your pasts. It was... cool."

"Cool?" Ice-blue eyes widened a smidgen.

"Awesome. Sweet... More-- phrases."

"I know they're phrases, I just thought you were more intelligent than to use such sophomoric language."

"I'm twenty-four. I'm bound to--You know what? This is good tea." A change of direction. That's what they needed.

"Booth hates tea. I think he thinks it's effeminate."

Sweets' lips pursed. He pushed away the mug. _There's no winning with this woman!_

Brennan sipped her coffee, then pushed it to the middle of the table near Sweets' teacup. "There's something I need to say to you."

"I kind of got that when you asked me out to lunch. Alone. Without Agent Booth. Where _is _Agent Booth, by the way?"

"He went home for lunch. But my reason for asking you to lunch has to do with a few weeks ago. I've been meaning to apologize properly, but... I hadn't yet decided whether a formal atmosphere or an informal, more personal atmosphere would be more appropriate. I consulted with Angela and she agreed that lunch at the Diner would be more than adequate."

Sweets smiled at her with a somewhat amused expression on his lips. "What are you getting at, Dr. Brennan?"

"Do you remember when I... led you to believe that Daisy was using you to cheat on her fiance?"

Sweets chuckled. "Forget? How could I?"

"So you do remember?"

"I remember. Yeah."

She cleared her throat and prepared to say what she had been planning for nearly three weeks. "I apologize, Sweets. Although my intentions were benignant, I've come to see that I should have followed Booth's advice and said nothing. I caused you unnecessary pain." Sweets could see that she really did seem honestly apologetic. "I'm sorry."

Sweets' cheek dimpled as he gave her a sideways grin. "Hey, it's--it's OK."

"No, it's not. I hurt you, Sweets. I am _truly _very sorry."

"I can see that, Dr. Brennan. If it--if it makes you feel any better, it really made for some great make-up sex."

Where any normal human being would have given Sweets a disgusted or shocked look, Brennan shrugged. "I can imagine that make-up sex is quite enjoyable. I've never personally had make-up sex--"

"Never?" Sweets couldn't believe he was actually getting Brennan to open up about something personal. _WIN_.

"Well--as it turns out, whenever I've fought with a boyfriend or a lover, it has never really ended in reconciliation." Although she stated this fact as coldly as she could, Sweets could tell that it was painful for her--just as the time when she told Booth and him about the pain of a break-up.

"You know... if someone isn't willing to fight for you, then they're just not worth it."

"You sound like Booth."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well... Guy talks and stuff. Turns out Booth gives some pretty good advice..."

"Booth does give excellent advice." She took a bite of a strawberry. "What advice did he give you?"

"Ah... Just some advice on Daisy."

"Do you... have a direct quote or a paraphrase?"

"Um. He said that I should confront Daisy."

"Which ultimately led to the post-quarrel sex."

"Yeah." He looked pretty proud of that particular memory.

"Then what?"

"Uh--Then What? I--I tried to give him a hug, but I dunno... apparently guys don't hug, so he slugged me in the arm--still kinda hurts. You know, my _dad _was a hugger. I think if I could just open Booth up to the possibility of physical displays--"

"Wait. He didn't _hug _you?"

"Yeah. Usually he's pretty perceptive to bodily language, but he made it quite clear that guys don't hug things out. He just--_WHACK_--I think I _bruised _a bit."

Brennan was quiet for a second. She stood quickly. "Could you pay, Sweets?"

Sweets looked up at Brennan as she threw on her jacket. "Where are you going?"

"I have to go."

He turned in his chair and watched as Brennan ran out of the diner.

"Always in the dark..." He shook his head and turned around just as his cell phone rang. He answered it. "Daisy?"

***

"Booth! It's Bones. Booth?"

"Just wait a second." He made it to the door with a sandwich in one hand. "Hey, I was just--" The look on her face made him freeze. "Bones?" She grabbed the sandwich and flung it to the side. "Hey, what was-- I was eating that--"

She entered his apartment, closing the door behind her. She stood, arms akimbo with an unreadable expression on her face. "Guy hugs?"

"Uh... What--what's going on, Bones?"

"You told Sweets that guys don't hug."

"Guys _don't_-- Oh."

"Exactly. So was it just a misnomer or was it an attempt at changing our proximity--? I don't understand, Booth."

"Bones..."

"The _truth_, Booth."

"The truth?"

She nodded.

Almost a minute passed before he decided on the right words.

"Sometimes... I just want to be close to you. Physically."

She didn't reply. She looked... angry?

"Bones..."

"How much time do we have left of lunch?"

He looked at his watch. "Uh. Twenty minutes. Why?"

"That's more than enough time. Think you can be fast?" She grabbed his hand and began to walk towards his bedroom.

"Whhhhat?"

They stopped in the doorway of his bedroom and kissed him deeply. It didn't take him long to get the message. Placing his hands on her hips, he pulled her tighter against his body.

Forty minutes later, Cam was looking at her watch. "Angela, do you know where Dr. Brennan is?"

She shrugged. "I dunno."

-------------

_Wow! Thank you so, so much for all of these fabulous comments! I really do appreciate knowing that my writing is loved! Only three more episodes left until the finale! _

_This Thursday: Beaver in the Otter--College Prank or Murder? Plus, Jared returns!_

_Thurs. May 7th: The Critic in the Cabernet -- Dead guy in the wine! Plus, Brennan reveals something HUGE and Booth's health goes downhill._

_Thurs. May 14th: The End in the Beginning -- Let's just say that something BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGG happens._

_Happy Viewing!_


	15. Perverse Language

**Title**: "Perverse Language"  
**Pairing**: Booth, Brennan  
**Rating**: M--LANGUAGE  
**Spoilers**: Inspired by my Ann who is a b*tch.**  
****Chapter: 1-Shot**  
**Summary**: Brennan learns just how satisfying perverse language can be!

"Booth?" She knocked once more before simply letting herself into Booth's apartment.

"Woah, Bones. What's up?" He had his hand almost on the door knob when Brennan pushed it open. He was bewildered when he saw the look on Brennan's face. "What's wrong?"

She wanted to pace. She wanted to punch something. "I'm just--I'm feeling really angry right now."

"Did Sweets say something?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Why'd you come over, then?"

Her hands were twisted into tight knuckles. "I just... I really need to talk... You know, this is silly. I should just--But I--"

"You're mad. About something."

"How perceptive."

"Hey, if you wanna take it out on me, you can hit me. I mean, you have quite an arm on you--" He mimicked a swing. "I think I could take it again."

"She's just--"

"Who, Bones?"

"She's such a horrible person, Booth! I can't believe that anyone could be so stupid!"

"Bones, you're pissed." He seemed slightly amused.

She glared at him.

"Wanna slug it out?"

"I can't _hit _her, Booth."

"I didn't say hit her, Bones. I said you know... duke it out--verbally."

She put her hands on her hips. "Like what? Call her a name?"

"Just start cussing. Say whatever you want. You can't shock me, Bones."

She crossed her arms. "She's stupid. Absolutely moronic." She looked at him, almost as if she were looking for confirmation that it was the right thing to say.

"That's it?" He crossed his arm.

"What? That wasn't the right thing to say?"

"There's no right or wrong, Bones. I was just expecting you to say something more--"

"Vehement?"

"Yeah. You can rate this conversation R if you want."

"R? You're saying that I can use obscenities?"

"All you want, Bones.

"She's... a stupid whore."

"Woah, Bones. I'm impressed."

"But your face doesn't say impressed."

"Kinda expected you to use a few four-letter words, Bones."

"I do use profanity, Booth--"

"I know."

"She's a bitch."

"Nice."

"A fucking bitch."

"Feel better?"

"Ann is a fucking bitch-whore."

"Bitch-whore?"

"I don't see how it's possible for one person to be so completely ignorant. I think she must throw herself head-first into the wall each morning. Fucking cock-sucking fucker."

"Woah, Bones. You might wanna--"

"Stupid fucking cow from hell!"

"OK, you're kinda getting a little too worked up--"

She stopped, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed. "You're right, Booth! This perverse usage of language really is _much _more satisfying than previously thought..."

"You're... welcome?"

-------

_Ann is a stupid woman who advocates domestic abuse. Stupid woman. You make me angry. I hope you die. _

_--_

_On a lighter note, thanks for all of the comments & compliments! Thanks for reading! I appreciate it all! _

_To answer a question, Parker isn't expected to be on Bones in the next three episodes (last three of Season four) of Bones. HOWEVER, it was said in a recent interview (by Steven Nathan, I believe) that Booth's family, including Parker, will be intricate in the "ramifications" of the finale. (If you follow spoilers, then you know what I mean by "ramifications"... And if you are curious why I happen to know so much... I'm a major spoiler whore. I blog spoilers at bonesspoilers-dot-blogspot-dot-com... totally obsessive. Yeah. xD_ )


	16. Not the Last Time: M

**Title**: "Not the Last Time"  
**Pairing**: Brennan, Booth  
**Rating**: M  
**Spoilers**: n/a**  
****Chapter: Single-Shot**  
**Summary**: Oh just a bunch of dirty, dirtiness._ I haven't edited it yet... and I refuse to. So there._

The first time she came to his apartment, he had a woman over. She was wearing one of those crazy skirts of hers and looked like a schoolgirl grasping her books.

He was completely taken off guard and the first words out of his mouth were, "Bones. Did we have an appointment?" So formal. As if they were barely acquaintances. Truth be told, they _were _barely acquaintances then.

It was awkward, stilted. She muttered something to Tessa about studying cranial fissures. Booth still remembered groaning deep within. _Damn she's weird. _

After that, the visits to his apartment completely disappeared. He visited her apartment instead. Why was it that way? Neither of them knew.

Drinks, beers, low-light conversation. The fire had not yet ignited, but it was smoldering.

Three years passed and visits to his apartment were more frequent than visits to her apartment.

She let herself in one day without knocking.

"Sorry, I should've knocked first."

"Are you kidding me?"

She walked in and sat beside him on the couch.

"What are you watching?"

"Flyers."

"Is that a type of sport?"

"It's a hockey team, Bones." _Damn she's cute when she's being weird. _He smiled at her and began to explain the game to her.

You know when people say that 'one thing lead to another'? He was beginning to believe that it was a bunch of bullshit. That whole phrase. There's no way in the world he could possibly explain what happened in a single sentence like that.

Their list of "things" consisted of dozens of nights where they laughed, drank, and spoke in serious tones. To put that into a single sentence would be ridiculous. It would be _impossible_.

All of those nights where she came in, fixed his back, told him that she wanted to believe in love or wanted to make Sweets feel like he had a family with them-- _All of them_--they were impossible to put to words. How can you even attempt to use the English language to explain how you fell in love with someone?

Eventually it came down to where she didn't knock at all. And it didn't matter. There was no chance of his having a woman over because she was the _only _woman in his life. Somehow they both knew that but never spoke it aloud. They just _knew_.

When she came in that night, she immediately put down her bag and produced a gift-wrapped CD--quite triumphantly.

He laughed. "What's that?_ Il Divo_?"

She smiled surreptitiously, "I know who they are. And no." _That smile--Damn she's beautiful when she smiles._

He reached for it. "All right, give it over."

She pulled it back. "Under one condition."

"And what's that?"

"That you promise to listen to it before you completely write it off. Deal?"

"Deal. Now hand it over."

She handed it over.

"What's this for, Bones?" He looked at the present.

"I've never been one to give gifts, but--I wanted to do something nice. Just open it."

He couldn't believe how adorable she was being--and since when did he use words like _adorable _to describe the woman he fantasized about at night? The same woman who he once despised was now the woman he wanted to hold at night, make love to in the evenings--

He tore the blue paper and revealed the CD.

He couldn't help but to grin. "Chris de Burg?"

Her mouth dropped a bit. "That was supposed to be Enter the Haggis."

He laughed. "Enter the what?" He moved to put the CD in.

"Booth--don't play it. I have to return it. They obviously mixed it up when I asked them to wrap it. And Enter the Haggis is Celtic rock. They're quite good--"

"No, no, Bones. This is good. This is better than Enter the Vomit--"

"Haggis."

"Same thing, Bones." He grinned and put the CD in.

He skipped ahead to track #4 _Lady in Red _.

"This wasn't what I wanted to get you."

"C'mon, Bones. You're wearing--what's that? Maroon?"

"The sales lady said it was fuchsia."

_I'd never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight--_

"Close enough." He held out his hand.

_Damn, he's attractive. _

After only a fraction of a second of thought, she let him hold her hand and pull her body close to his. The tone of the dance quickly went from funny and spontaneous to--the feeling of their bodies moving together--chills running through their bodies--their hearts didn't know whether to speed up or slow down.

Time had changed so much between them and there was no going back. His hand moved down the curve of her back, stopping just above her bottom. He could feel himself beginning to become aroused. His first response was to pull away, but something kept him from doing so--he wanted to see what would happen if he didn't--if he took a chance and let something change between them. What would it hurt? Especially when so much had already changed between them.

She could feel him firming against her and her mind refused to think of anything except how good it would feel to have him inside of her. A mixture of feelings whirled inside: fear, confusion, warmth, excitement.

What was it that kept them from going any further? If a line existed at one point, it clearly did not any more. Do partners hold each other this close? Should she let his fingers wander beneath her blouse and touch the soft skin of her lower back? Should she even worry about the professional when they had clearly gone too far a long time ago?

_I have been blind_--

The world's cheesiest song was playing and instead of being able to maintain the distance between them, he only wanted to pull her closer. Touch her more. And she was letting him touch her. The more freedom she allowed, the more his hands had a mind of their own. And his lips--they caressed her neck tentatively. He could feel her stop breathing for a moment, then try to catch her breath.

With every kiss, he found that he wanted more but could not get enough. He kissed her mouth roughly. She kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck. They kissed ravenously, deeply, letting their hands move over each other's bodies like unleashed animals, fighting to rip the clothing from their forms.

_There's nobody here; Its just you and me--_

The music was a drastically soft contrast to their fevered attacks, tongues fighting for more, soft nips and harsh kisses, clothing quickly being ripped and pulled, buttons falling to the ground.

"Bones, I want you. Oh, God, I want you--"

"Stop talking--"

"We're not gonna make it---"

"I don't care--"

Words were sputtered between greedy kisses and inclement assaults--painfully mind-blowing and erotic--a new touch, new feeling. They made it to the couch where he pulled her shirt slowly over her head and threw it aside.

"We probably shouldn't--" It was a pathetic attempt on his part to regain his bearings.

"I can't wait any more," she told him, looking him in the eyes.

"Me, neither, Bones."

She smiled, her chest heaving with thick breaths as she straddled his waist. He sat up to free her breasts from her bra and massage her nipples with his tongue. She rocked her hips, moving against his erection, which only made him suck harder, which in turn made her grind against him rougher.

"Bones," he laughed, looking into her eyes. "I'm trying a little foreplay--you're not making it easy."

"We've had four years of foreplay, Booth."

"Good point." _Four years of opening and closing doors. Four years of drinks and laughter. Four years of coffee and conversation. _

She smiled and quickly unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down and leaving them in a pile beside her bra and panties.

An overwhelming sense of fear and anxiety washed over both of them--where once they were so feverishly pulling clothes off from one another--not able to taste each other enough--not able to get to the bedroom fast enough--_This was it. _

His hands were on her waist, his thumbs gliding over her navel and thighs--their eyes met and the gravity of the act was heavier than they had originally believed.

_Decision_.

He felt his cock sink into her, deeply, warmly--So wet and tight around his penis--

She threw her hair over her shoulder and looked into his eyes. A smile crossed her lips--as if to say, "This is the new us."

He reached out, touching her face, her neck, and drew her close for a kiss and gently moved her beneath him. He began to throw his hips slowly, gently-- She wrapped her ankles around him, behind his ass, and pulled him closer.

"Harder," she whispered.

His thrusts and blows grew quickly more vigorous.

Pleasurable groans and utterances slipped from her lips, her eyes closed and her mouth opened slightly as he slammed deeper into her with every movement. He caught those lips once again, tangling her tongue with his.

"Oh, God that feels good."

"Yeah?"

The music skipped to the next song, but neither heard the lyrics--just the sounds of their breaths, the scent of being so close, the taste of one another--sweet, salty, tangy, hot. Four years of pent-up frustration, sexual tension, fantasies, wondering what she looked like naked, what it would be like to take a steamy shower with her, wondering what he would feel like, his touch, his scent, what her lip-gloss tasted like that December afternoon, what it would feel like to have her lips sucking his dick, if she preferred thongs or bikini--black, red, white, lace, silk, cotton, the sound of her moaning, what would his sex face look like. All of those things--making the moment their bodies were moving together a conglomeration of images, tastes, smells, feelings like a magic show or a slide show of subliminal images--flashing. Breaths, bodies on fire, tingling.

He thrust deeper as he climaxed and she with him, pulling him closer, thighs tightening, her body squeezing around his.

His heart was pounding in his head as he rested on tightened arms and caught his breath. She was relaxed beneath him--smiling.

He kissed her.

"We should do that again," she said.

He nodded, grinning at her. "Yeah."

"That was definitely, _extremely _gratifying."

He chuckled. _Damn. She's sexy as hell when she talks like a scientist._

-------------------

_Thanks for the great response, everyone!!!! I love you all!  
_

_Don't forget:_

_May 7th: The Critic in the Cabernet_

_May 14th: The End in the Beginning_


	17. Love Me Tender: Finale Thoughts

**Title: Love Me Tender****  
****Author:****forensicmama** **  
****Rating:**K+ish**  
****Spoilers:**Finale Spoilers**  
****Summary:**Finale drabble written at one in the morning....

His touch. Familiar yet so different.

His hands threaded through her hair, gently moving a wave out of her eye.

Why was it so difficult to turn her heart off?

_Put your mind into neutral, pop your heart into drive._

_Love is a chemical process which causes delusion.  
_  
And yet all she wanted was for him to continue caressing her as he did. She could feel her body reacting to him, his hands, his body against hers. And it wasn't all just a sexual reaction. Her heart and stomach did this little flip--so small that it would've been ignored to anyone who had felt it before. But she noticed it. She noticed it when his hand slipped behind her head and pulled her into a kiss--long, deep, passionate, tender, sweet.

_You do realize how this is supposed to work, right? You get naked together... devour each other in a passionate frenzy._

Where she often found words, she found none to describe his embrace and how he looked into his eyes with such a look of love. A look she had seen before, but now it burned into her causing her heart to catch its breath.

And she found that she was lost. Absolutely lost in him. She usually found herself dominating the bedroom, but she let him move her gently to her back.

Again. That look. So _loving_.

What she would have given to be looked on in that way a thousand times more.

But it was business. Not for pleasure.

_Emotional ties are ephemeral._

But how could she deny the way his every touch and every movement made her heart skip a beat? How could she deny the way he looked made her feel?

_This is worth it. It's all worth it._

She felt his hand lazily trace her spine. As if his hand was somehow a part of her. It so perfectly traced her curves.

_You all want to lose yourself in another person. You believe that love is transcendent and eternal. I want to believe in that, too._

Defying physics? If anything, they had done a fairly good job at defying her definitions of love and _making _love.

Morning sunlight slipped through the slats in the blinds as her feet hit the floor and she gathered her things.

She would dress in the living room so as to not disturb him.

_I promise. Someday you will. Someday. _

Today was someday.

And that someday was more frightening and _real _than she had ever imagined.

His eyes opened to the sound of the lock clicking behind her.

-----

**_Once again, I really appreciate the comments & reviews!_**

**_The finale airs this Thursday! May 14th at 8/7c!!!! So excited!!!_**


	18. Stronger: Demily Friendship Fic

**Title: Stronger****  
****Author:****forensicmama** **  
****Rating:**K+ish**  
Pairing: Emily/David  
****Spoilers:**Season Four Finale Talk**  
****Summary:**E&D are interviewed... Friendship-talk... I think these two have a fond love for one another. Nothing sexual of course, but they love each other as friends. The finale really showed that. I love this show. ;)__

The room was quiet for a few seconds. She crossed her legs, then her ankles.

"Would you like some water, Miss Deschanel?" The man leaned over her shoulder with a glass of water. He had almost grabbed a bottle, but thought twice. Smart move.

She nodded and thanked him sweetly.

"One minute to go."

"Who's next?"

The man flipped through the pages on his clip board. "Looks like Lisa from My Fox LA."

"Did I miss anything?" David slipped past the assistant, patting him on the shoulder. "How ya doin'?"

"Good."

"Good." David sat down beside his costar, then eyed the assistant until he excused himself wordlessly.

Emily slapped him gently, "That was _not _very nice."

He smiled at her as Lisa walked into the room, led by another assistant with a head set on.

Lisa sat down across from David and Emily while her small crew set up the cameras. She small-talked while they worked. "Been a long day?"

"Been here since five," David said.

"Wow, that's harsh. Paul, could you get a little more lighting in here?"

Paul nodded and set up accordingly.

"And in three... two..." The videographer signaled.

"It's a beautiful day in Los Angeles, California and I'm sitting with Emily Deschanel--did I say that correctly? And David Boreanaz from Fox's hit dramedy BONES! I've gotta tell you that I love this show. It serves up everything a viewer could possibly want. You have the gruesome bodies, the drama, the humor, and probably the best sexual tension that's ever existed on TV. Good morning."

"Good morning," they replied together.

"Thanks for that great introduction," Emily said, smiling at David.

"Yeah, it's great, but the lady obviously doesn't watch the show," David laughed, wrapping his arm around Emily. "Sexual tension?"

"_What _sexual tension?" Their noses were practically touching. They laid on the sparks extra thick. Playing up the sexual tension was their job. And _damn_, they were good at it.

Lisa laughed. "Woah. Save it for when someone yells 'action'. Speaking of action, the season finale was quite a shock for fans, wasn't it? Was it just as shocking to read the script?"

Emily smoothed her hair behind her ear. "Well, Hart Hanson, who's the creator, actually told us way back in the fall, I think, that Booth and Brennan were... you know..."

David leaned forward with mischief in his eyes. "That we were going to make a little heat between the sheets."

"Oh, my," Emily laughed shaking her head.

"A little horizontal hula..."

She put her head into her hand and began to laugh. "David..."

"I think I embarrassed her..."

"You didn't embarrass me."

"Usually it's Booth who hates the sex talk, you know."

"He hates to talk about sex. I think it's because he wants me."

David laughed and nodded just as Lisa got the feeling that just like any other David/Emily interview, the two being interviewed were going to lead the direction that the meeting went. "Yeah. Every time she says the S-word my mind just--"

"Men are usually very visual," Emily said, tapping into her inner-Brennan. "I think I read somewhere that men think about sex every seven seconds."

"_Lies_. It's all _lies_!"

"So what was the sex scene like?" Lisa asked, finally finding a place to butt in.

"What kind of a question is _that_?" David asked. Both women looked up at him. "I mean, I was getting paid to be in bed with Emily. Can't complain there."

Emily shot him a look.

"What?" He laughed. "She _asked_!"

"He was very sweet," Emily said, contradicting David's ego. "It was actually the proudest moment of my career. I couldn't stop laughing when we practiced it, but I didn't laugh at all when we shot it."

David's arm slid back into his lap. The tone in the room grew a little more serious. Maybe even a tad uneasy. "Actually--I think our friendship's stronger now."

Emily looked up at him. For a moment, there was awkwardness, but when he said that she couldn't help but to feel a little shocked. "That's what I said."

"What? _Now_?"

She shook her head. "No. Earlier. In an earlier interview. I said the same thing. That I think our friendship is stronger now."

David smiled a little half-grin, wrapped his arm back around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. "Me, too."

Lisa smiled and looked down at her notepad. "Bones has been signed on for two more seasons, do you think the show will be as strong as before or do you think that this shocking season ender will make a few viewers lose interest?"

David and Emily's eyes locked. They both knew the answer. "_Stronger_."

-----

_I was feeling uncreative, so I decided to try a different route. Hope that you enjoyed it!_

_In case you haven't heard, Bones was renewed for NOT ONE, but **TWO **SEASONS today! =)_


	19. Then The Rain Fell

Title: Then The Rain Fell  
Author: **forensicmama**  
Pairing: H/A and a little B/B  
Rating: K+  
Summary: **Awww. If you're a crybaby like me, this'll make you tear up. xD**

********

She stood by the hospital room silently, listening in. She didn't feel like disturbing them. The truth was, it looked like no time was lost between them. Brennan was sitting on Booth's bed with a photo album, trying to revive his patchy memory.

"Woah, woah, woah. Turn back a bit," he said.

She turned back.

"What was I? Clark Kent?"

"You were a squint. See the calculator?"

"It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Me the squint, you the crime-fighter?"

She laughed easily and flipped through the album again. Most of it he seemed to remember. Here and there, he needed to be reminded. Brennan kept that businesslike and strong look on her face, but Angela could tell that her friend was hurt when he didn't remember certain events.

"Hey," Hodgins said softly, walking up beside Angela.

"Hey." She turned and walked a little into the hallway so that they didn't disturb Booth and Brennan.

"How's he doin' today?"

She shrugged. "He's better, I think. He remembers more today."

"Good."  
_  
Ange, when we split, either one of us could've stopped it. It would've been easy._

_I know._

_It would be just as easy to begin again._

The words slipped through her mind. A conversation that hung in the air between them. A dense cloud of uncertainty and possibility. She still didn't know what her reply should be.

How many times had she thought of the way it could be?

_Her cell phone rang, so she slowed her pace and answered it. The Date or Hate application pulled up on her screen. A familiar face. Hodgins. She smiled at the irony and looked around. He was somewhere. Her eyes returned to the screen._

_A decision._

_Date?_

_Hate?_

_The smile melted as she realized that neither were a possibility in their world. Neither date _nor _hate. They couldn't hate one another. They couldn't date each other, either. That ship had sailed._

_He made the decision for her._

_Call Ended._

_She would have done the same thing. But it hurt knowing that particular truth. __Perhaps the past must remain in the past._

His hands were in his pockets. "I've been meaning to talk to you about--"

"Jack..."

Neither said anything more. The conversation was off-limits.

He scratched his nose nervously. "I'm just about to head home. Did you need a ride?"

"I drove."

"What? In that thing? Doesn't it smell like Hank?"

"_Au de Hank_. It's the new Elizabeth Taylor."

He laughed. "Either way, it smells like a corpse."

A moment grew between them--awkward. A million conversations passed. A million more _past_.

She laughed uncomfortably and hiked her purse onto her shoulder.

"I'll see you later, Ange."

She nodded and watched him knock softly on Booth's door, then disappear behind it.

She didn't move for several seconds.

_Better than a dream, huh?_ _You're shameless._ _Alright, you better get--get--You're gonna kill yourself._

_I wouldn't do that._

_No?_

_Not yet._

The past must remain in the past.

She walked through the halls, white and gleaming in clinical perfection. People crying. Children playing.

The drive home, through the May rainstorm, would be as lonely as her apartment. She was beginning to wish she had gotten that dog after all.

...

Hodgins walked up to Booth as Brennan stood up, feeling conscious about their closeness at the moment.

"How you doin'?"

"I have a headache," Booth informed him.

"Yeah, about that. Looks like a hell of an accident. You should look into getting some glasses."

Booth laughed softly.

"Angela forgot her cell phone."

Hodgins looked at Brennan. She was sitting on the little sofa where she and Angela had chatted earlier that day before Booth woke.

"Maybe I can catch her." Hodgins held out his hand. The phone was exchanged.

"Get better." Hodgins waved and left the hospital room.

In the parking lot, Hodgins looked around. She wasn't in sight, so he got into his own vehicle.

...

_We move in and out of loving other people, but that doesn't make the love any less real. _

She turned on the CD player to drown out all of the pain and thoughts that were twisting and boiling in her mind. Beyonce's voice sang of her angel, his halo, walls tumbling down. The thoughts of Hodgins and ephemeral lives were just as loud as before.

A truck drove by, splashing mud across her windshield.

_We're here one minute and then we're gone the next. If you keep living trying to protect yourself, nothing is ever going to touch you._

She tried to straighten her wheels as the car hydroplaned, slid sharply to one side and spun in the road. The centrifugal force of the spin, combined with the disorienting mud and speed made it next to impossible to right herself in the road. Headlights glimmered from all corners of the car. There were several long blares as people slammed on their brakes and put their weight into their horns.

Then a deafening thunderclap as a Prius bashed into the side of her Toyota. Metal twisted. Glass peppered her face. Confusion. Airbags blew. The vehicle rolled.

A terrifying silence.

...

Several lanes back, the traffic slowed to the point that Hodgins, after a few minutes, put his car into park.

The next thing to happen is hard to describe. It's impossible to believe. All I can say is that when you love someone, when soul mates find one another, that you _know_. You just _know_.

He kept his eyes in the distance. He told himself that it wasn't her.

His heart thudded against his sternum.

Then he got out of the car. Rain quickly drenched his hair. Thick wet curls hung over his eyes and slicked his tee shirt against his chest.

He walked at first, ignoring people who honked at him for abandoning his car. Then his feet picked up speed. The closer he got, the faster his heart pounded, the more that feeling of dread and fear grew.

Twisted and jagged gray metal lay in the middle of the street. A few people stood back and simply stared at the wreckage.

"Angela! Oh, God, _Angie_!" His legs brought him the last several yards until he was kneeling near the crushed window. Her dark hair was soaked with blood, but she was still conscious. He could hear her thick, ragged breaths and fearful sobs.

_Without the possibility of pain, there can be no joy, no real love. _

He reached for her hand, stretching his arm until he could touch her finger tips.

A hot tear fell onto his arm.

"Angela," he said. Tears were beginning to moisten his own eyes. "I'm here, Angie. I'm always here."

"It hurts, Jack."

"Don't move, Ange. Don't move."

"You're crying."

"So are you." He wiped away her tears with his thumb.

"Don't leave me."

"Never again."

_Then you should come home with me._

_What?_

_When you open your eyes, I'll be there._

"Angela, stay awake. Don't close your eyes. Oh, God, Angie. Please. Stay with me."

----

_Thank you again for all of your lovely comments!_

_Today Hart Hanson said that with a bit of luck, Bones will return September 17th with guest-star Cyndi Lauper! How awesome is that?! Mark your calendars!  
_


End file.
